"Assume the angle, frosh!" Beverly Wilson hissed, striding over to the fireplace in the living room of her apartment in the Delta Gamma Phi sorority house on the verdant campus of Northeastern College.
Atop the mantelpiece there lay a pair of oval-shaped, rectangular wooden paddles whose ends were taped to fit the wielder's hand more firmly. On the surfaces of their formidably flexible pinewood applicators, there had been burned the Greek letters of this elite and snobbish sorority of which Beverly Wilson was vice-president.
The unfortunate freshman thus commanded to assume the most humiliating and vulnerable pose in preparation for a paddling, uttered a doleful sigh and slowly bent down to grasp her ankles, closing her eyes and shuddering a little as she waited. Her miniskirt hiked up, provocatively exposing the tightening ovals of her surprisingly spacious bottom, encased in the charcoal-brown nylon sheath of pan tie-hose.
She was Elaine Horton, just turned seventeen and starting her first semester at Northeastern. Two weeks ago, Elaine together with about five other equally attractive girl newcomers to the college, had received a bid in her mailbox. It had been personally delivered, so that the notoriously slow small-town mail system wouldn't delay it, by an eager-beaver sophomore, Dulcy Brent, a gossipy, petite brunette with horn-rimmed spectacles, who wanted to ingratiate herself with Beverly. At the time, Elaine and the other girls had been wildly excited at the idea of being pledged to the exclusive girls' group which virtually reigned over Northeastern so far as campus politics was concerned. But now, she wasn't quite so sure.
Northeastern College was located about thirty-two miles northwest of Chicago, in the magnificent campus setting which looked positively rural. But the sophistication of the Delta Gamma Phi sisters and the luxurious furnishings they procured for their rooms and particularly for the recreation chamber of the stately two-story house which was their headquarters, quite belied the small-townish aspect of this den of devious damsels. Because the enrollment at the college was only about three thousand, the forty-two members of this Greek letter society exercised formidable power over such matters as dating, boning for exams and for class, running for student offices, and the like. Elaine was to discover that her acceptance of the bid to become a sister under the skin with her peers was going to be tantamount to modern bondage and servitude....
Beverly Wilson had decided to become "Big Sister," and had so designated herself at the secret council of the DGP's officers. Madge Trenton, the overbearing, twenty-one-year-old auburn-haired senior who was prexy of the sorority, had demurred, for she'd wanted Elaine herself. There was something about this dark brown-haired, lush-figured freshman which appealed to her intensely sensual and autocratic nature. But Beverly, twenty, her black hair set in a severe coronet braid, and svelte of figure, had simply shrugged and said, "If that's the way you feel, Madgie honey, I'll be glad to give Laney up if you'll give me more time with our beloved house mother." And Madge Trenton had turned red as a beet, mumbled something and then passed on to the consideration of the next freshman pledge.
Hell Week was a month away, but Delta Gamma Phi believed in preparing their pledges for that awesome ordeal. Hence every girl pledged to the sorority was assigned to a "Big Sister" for whom she would run errands, sacrifice her own free time for the well-being of her Greek-letter peer and try to make herself as unobtrusive and unobjectionable as possible until the third Friday night in October rolled around. If she incurred the wrath of her "Big Sister" by that momentous date, she could expect the term of "Hell Week" to be as literal as possible.
And since a "Big Sister" was obliged to teach her freshman protegee the sorority facts of life, the least infraction or omission in duties assigned would be invariably punished with the paddle.
Lovely young Elaine Horton was discovering that on her very first day in the Delta Gamma Phi house. She and the other fifteen pledges had been invited to move right in and were assigned, three girls to each of five rooms set aside for them in the spacious 2-story building.
After her last class, Elaine Horton had gone back to the house to change her clothes, for she'd wanted to see Dean Norton about being allowed to take on a much more comprehensive course in English Literature than the one to which she had been summarily registered by the rather haughty and spinsterish Hilda Mannering, the freshmen counselor. However, Beverly Wilson had appeared at the door of the room which she shared with Myrna Tatum, a pert, petite and bespectacled brunette, and Dorothy Kilmer, a honey-haired, soft-voiced Kansas sexpot whose irate aunt had enrolled her at Northeastern to get her away from two handsome young farmhands with whom she would very likely have got into trouble if she had gone to a college in her own area.
Beverly had wanted Elaine to go over to Denby's and bring her back a hamburger well done with crisp French fries and a double chocolate shake. And Elaine had made the mistake of saying that she'd bring it back as soon as she had a chance to see Dean Norton. That was why she was now upstairs in Beverly's own room, grasping her ankles, waiting for the stinging rebuke of the vice-president's oval-shaped paddle.
"Now get this through your head once and for all, Laney," Beverly Wilson purred as she took her place behind and to the left of the culprit, "when your Big Sister says jump, you jump, frosh.
You can always see the Dean tomorrow or any other time that I don't need you to do things for me, understand?"
"Why-yes, I-I do," Elaine huskily quavered as she uneasily shifted herself, keeping her eyes closed and miserably conscious of what little protection her miniskirt and pantie-hose would provide, even with a pair of white nylon panties under the body sheath against the burning kisses of that sinister implement in Beverly Wilson's right hand.
"Yes what, frosh?" Beverly Wilson snapped.
"Oh-I-I'm sorry-I-I forgot. I mean, yes, Madame Vice President," Elaine hastened to supply.
"That's the second time you forgot my title of respect, frosh. Five swats for arguing, two swats for not addressing me with proper respect, and one extra just to remind you not to make the same mistakes again, or there'll be a lot more. And don't forget that Hell Week isn't too far away. I can get you through the mill without too much trouble if you're a good obedient little slave, but I've known girls who've practically had to be taken to the hospital after an initiation just because they made their Big Sisters mad. Do I make my point clear?"
"Oh yes, Madame Vice President!" Elaine gasped.
"Good. Then stick it out and grit your teeth and get ready!" Beverly Wilson grinned. In her tight black sweater and pleated red cotton skirt, she looked particularly imperious, which her hairdo accentuated still more. Her face was oval, with high-set cheekbones, a thin, rather cool mouth, dark blue eyes and olive skin. She was five feet, six and one half inches in height, and her sweater hugged small, widely spaced, round titties. Her waist was enviably supple, her hips rather lean, but her thighs and calves were magnificently sinuous and beautifully proportioned. She had won her college letter in fencing, was a member of the college debating team, and she was also an avid Lesbian.
That, indeed, was why she had alluded to the house mother, Mrs. Noreen Grange, in Madge Trenton's presence. For Mrs. Noreen Grange, a stunningly buxom forty-five-year-old divorcee and as blonde as Beverly herself was brunette, had been for several months the secret Sapphic paramour of the haughty president of Delta Gamma Phi.
Beverly Wilson lusted for the house mother, whom she hadn't suspected of being a sister of Bilitis like herself until about a week before Elaine Horton had been pledged. She had gone up to find Madge to ask her about protocol in issuing the invitations to the prospective pledges, found the room empty. Mrs. Grange was supposed to be out of town for that particular weekend, but on an impulse she had gone to the house mother's room on the second floor and at the very back of the long hallway. She'd heard the sound of kisses and gigglings, put her hand to the knob and tentatively turned it to find Madge and the buxom flaxen-haired house mother in each other's arms, naked except for nylon slips already rolled up to their armpits, French-kissing and slowly rubbing pussies back and forth as they prepared to journey to that mystic isle of Lesbos eventually under full steam.
They had been so engrossed in their passionate prelude that neither of them had noticed Beverly's intrusion. The vice president had silently closed the door and gone back to her room and done some thinking. Now she could understand the reason for Madge's frequent disappearances and the fact that Mrs. Grange always seemed to be inviting Madge out to a movie or a concert or something like that. And she herself had had the hots for Noreen Grange till the very first day she had moved into the house.
So all it had taken was just a little adroit blackmail, to let Madge Trenton know that she herself knew what the score was. That was why Elaine Horton had been shunted off into Beverly's keeping, and that was why, though indirectly, Elaine now awaited eight good hard swats from Beverly Wilson's punishment paddle.
CHAPTER TWO
At about the same time Elaine Horton was miserably assuming the pose for paddling, at the other end of the hall and in one of the luxurious rooms of the sorority house, a similar scene was taking place.
The room was occupied by Trude Jordan, the secretary of Delta Gamma Phi. Trude was a junior, twenty, and her flaxen hair was coiffed in a very thick coronet braid which made a circle around the top of her haughty head. She wore thick horn-rimmed glasses, she was slightly on the plump side-though her figure was excitingly opulent and certainly not at all obese-and she was a confirmed and passionate devotee of the cult of Sappho.
Although Madge Trenton and Beverly Wilson, the two leading officers of this exotic sorority on the Northeastern campus, had laid down the rule that until "Hell Week," no freshman pledge should be brought into any personalized or emotionally involved relationship with her "Big Sister," Trude Jordan had her own ideas on the subject. Originally from Minnesota, where her parents operated a chain of hi-fi shops, she was distinctly a "loner." Because her parents were wealthy and because she was their only child and they felt secretly sorry for her that she had turned out to be a plump tomboy, Trude Jordan burned inwardly for acceptance. By dint of her ready spending money on campus and her ability to stand the sorority sisters constant treats at their favorite sweet shop, she had wangled herself an invitation as a pledge just two years ago, when she had been a freshman. She had been rather vigorously hazed; her spacious, upstandingly rounded bottom had been an ideal target for the Delta Gamma Phi paddles, but she had endured going through the mill twice with remarkable stoicism. Madge Trenton had finally called a halt when it looked as if poor Trude's bare bottom was beginning to be blistered and when she was moaning and rocking back and forth on her knees, her teeth clutched and awaiting still another order to turn around and go back through that maze of sadistic beauties whose paddles yearned to sweep down and endlessly attack her swollen bare behind.
Her "Big Sister" had been Jane Tardiff, an intellectual snob and a senior at that time, with prissy manners, an upturned nose and small prim mouth, fluffy black curls and a willowy body that had been the secret bed-goal of every red-blooded male on campus. As it turned out, however, Jane was a decided Lesbian, and she had out of whimsy at first forced poor Trude to submit to her. Right after the initiation, the very next night, a Saturday, she had found some pretext to quarrel with her pledge and had told the girl to strip naked and assume the angle. Trude had stolidly proceeded to disrobe, and had slowly bent down and grasped her ankles, bravely jutting out her livid bottom. Jane had reluctantly admired the pledge's courage, but a sudden impulse had made her decide to enslave Trude Jordan and initiate the plump freshman into the mystic lore of Lesbian lust. She had therefore removed everything except her bra, garterbelt and hose, and, paddle in hand, had commanded in an arrogant tone, "Pledge Jordan, I've changed my mind. Get down on your hands and knees, crawl around and face me, and then do what I tell you to, or I'll give you triple swats!"
And when Trude Jordan had obeyed, she found herself confronted by the long tawny-sheened, flexing thighs of the supercilious senior and by the thick black curly muff of Jane Tardiff's voluptuous cunthole.
Jane had compelled Trude to gamahuch her, her hands grasping Jane's calves, her tongue and lips nimbly plying their amateurish but fervent devotion to the dainty, thin pink petals of her quim.
Trude had dedicated herself to this intimate and salacious task with a fervor which had amazed the insolent and perverse senior beauty. So diligently had she used her tongue and mouth that Jane had been shaken by the most violent come she had ever known. She forgot all about the paddle, and pantingly ordered Trude to her bed. That night was a revelation for them both. For Trude, knowing that perhaps boys might whistle at her but not really want to pursue any serious adventure because of her overly generous bosom and hips and thighs, found in Jane Tardiff's passionate and expert Sapphic embrace the fulfillment of all her pent up sexual needs.
So after Jane had left upon graduation, Trude had lost a mistress with whom she had fallen furiously in lust. But then as a sophomore, she discovered that she could take part in "Hell Week" ordeals and dish out punishment the same way she had had to take it. So that next time around, she chose a shy, bespectacled, golden-haired young pledge of sixteen, who had never so much as been kissed by a boy in high school, since the girl was precociously studious and had come to Northeastern with the praiseworthy ambition of getting her degree in four short years and then a teacher's certificate for a rural school.
Trude Jordan changed those plans somewhat. As "Big Sister" to pretty, bespectacled Nora Borley, she intimated that the pledge's initiation could be a really torturing affair if Nora did not show herself particularly obedient and docile. Nora, for her part, was horrified to discover that she was going to have to strip and expose her most intimate parts to her sorority sisters and, worst of all, endure a solid thrashing with the paddles as she crawled through their legs on initiation night. And so the inevitable happened; the shy, extremely virginal young blonde begged Trude to steer her through the initiation with a minimum of pain, and in return for which Nora blushingly went to her "Big Sister's" bed and became as ardent a Lesbian as Trude herself. If truth be known, at the time this story opens, the charming young would-be teacher was presently employed as a substitute teacher in a rural school in Indiana, where she had already secretly formed a Sapphic liaison with a charming fourteen-year-old girl whom she had had to keep late after class and spank for naughtiness....
Trude Jordan had been elected secretary at the close of last semester because she had spent a good deal of money on the house as a gesture of goodwill, a gesture which was of course opportunistic. She had already chosen her pledge and she was the "Big Sister" of Lucy Daniels. It was Lucy who, at this moment, was about to discover that her initiation was going to take place somewhat in advance of "Hell Week."
Lucy Daniels had just turned seventeen, was auburn-haired, slim, rather shy and inclined to blush a good deal. She had that enchanting complexion so typical of redheads, pale white with rosy flecks; and though her figure was slender and graceful, she possessed a magnificent, broadly oval posterior which Trude Jordan coveted.
Lucy had been assigned the task this late afternoon of shining all of Trude Jordan's shoes. To do so, she had given up a longed-for hike in the woods just to the north of the campus with a fascinating new boyfriend, Jack Sturtevant, who had already taken her girlish heart by storm when he had stood in line during Registration Day and struck up a conversation with her. They discovered they were both from the same little town, though they had never previously met. And Jack had asked her if she would like to go for a walk and of course Lucy had said yes, her virginal heart thudding wildly because he was an extremely good-looking boy, with black hair and sideburns and the most devilish eyes she'd ever seen.
What worried Lucy Daniels was that she wouldn't be able to get word to Jack about her not being there for the hike, because she had hurried back to the house right after the last class to shine Trade's shoes and done a very lick-and-a-promise kind of a job on them. And then when Trade had rebuked her and told her to do them all over again and in her presence, Lucy had stamped her pretty foot and burst into tears.
Rebellion like that inevitably called for punishment, and Trude was gloating with anticipation. She fairly itched to get Lucy peeled down to the buff and to force the pretty pledge to service her in all those amorous ways which a dominant Lesbian loves to have a meeker and milder girl provide. Besides, in the setup at Delta Gamma Phi, a pledge had to act as a virtual slave to her "Big Sister" until right after initiation night. There would be quite a few nights left before that time came, Trude Jordan told herself, and she meant to make the most of them with Lucy Daniels.
As she stood in the center of her living room, paddle in hand, wearing white linen play shorts and a tight pullover blue woolen sweater, her bare feet incased in sandals, Trade Jordan was studying Lucy's bent-over figure, which was really breathtaking. Lucy Daniels was five feet six, and she wore a knee-length cotton print, chaste light nylon slip, and very gauzy white panties and matching bra, with a dainty pink satin-elastic garterbelt tucked under the waistband of the panties and conveying narrow tabs to her flesh-colored nylon hose. At the moment, her skirt and slip rolled well above her waist, she was bending over and holding her ankles, her cheeks scarlet with shame, and the muscles of her delightfully ample buttocks (tightly thrusting out against the wispy panties in a way that made them seem even more naked than naked) were quivering and flinching in dire apprehension of what was to follow.
There were to be ten swats, Trude had informed the girl. Five over the panties, and five on the bare. Moreover, after the first five, Lucy was to turn around, kneel down, kiss the paddle and then the hand that had wielded it. Next, thank her "Big Sister" and then humbly beg for the remaining five. After that, she was to remove her own panties completely, and assume the angle once more, but this time her skirt and slip would be entirely removed along with the panties. Trude Jordan had purposely thought up that ritual in order to have Lucy's deliciously lithe virginal body practically naked at her disposal; experience had shown her that it was always easier to lead a pledge to bed when the latter had been well paddled and summarily unclothed.
Brandishing her oval-shaped paddle with both hands tightly clutching the taped handle, Trude Jordan avidly contemplated the upturned, quivering behind of her intended Sapphic convert. Lucy's pantie-briefs scarcely covered the delightfully curving base of her ample bottom cheeks, and a considerable portion of pale, rosy-flecked skin was titillatingly exposed to the plump junior's fixed gaze. "Count them off, pledge," she hissed and drew the paddle back. Lucy Daniels tightened her grip on her ankles and ground her teeth together, her body shivering in that imminent aura of pain to come.
"Smackkkkk!" The first stroke bit noisily across both huddling bottom summits. Lucy Daniels uttered a wail of distress, straightened up and grabbed for her bottom, turning round to stare ruefully at her tormentress.
"Who told you to leave position, Daniels?" Trude at once angrily reprimanded the unfortunate young victim. "We'll start all over again. You have to count each swat out loud and clear, or I'll just keep giving them to you until you do. Now get back down there! And your dress and slip came loose a little, so pick them up so they don't fall down and protect that big behind of yours! On the double, frosh!"
With a doleful sigh, Lucy Daniels obeyed. She drew a deep shuddering breath and took a firmer hold of her ankles as she waited, the first burning, throbbing anguish of the paddle already atrociously painful to her tender virgin flesh. Hardly had she got herself settled when the paddle swooped down again, this time colliding noisily with her left upper bottomsummit, flattening the resilient flesh and drawing another, even louder cry, "Oww! One! Oh golly, Trude, please, not so hard!"
"What did you call me?" Trude grimly demanded as she lowered the paddle and stepped a little closer to the trembling girl. "Don't you know you're suppose to call me Madame Secretary? That's what I am at Delta Gamma Phi, and don't you ever forget it. Just for that, we're going to start all over again. Five over the pants, five on the bare butt. Now get back down there."
"Oh please, it's too much, please! I-I've never been sp-sp-spanked before, M-Madame Secretary, and it hurts awfully!"
"It's meant to, frosh," Trude Jordan jeered. "Maybe I ought to make it ten instead of five if you keep wasting my time this way."
"Oh no, oh please don't! I'll try to bear it, truly I will, M-M-Madame S-Secretary!" Lucy Daniels blurted.
Trude waited while Lucy Daniels uncomfortably resumed the humiliating, self-offered pose, and then kept the lovely young auburn-haired victim in mounting suspense by lifting her paddle high above the upturned bottom and suspending the implement in the air. At last the girl frantically looked back round, her eyes big as saucers, her lower lip trembling, and Trude grinned coolly. She reveled in this kind of sadistic torment. "Stay in position, now," she admonished, and then brought the paddle viciously down to flatten Lucy's upper right bottom cheek. The noisy "Thwackkk!!" of the paddle was instantly echoed by a shrill "Owwohhh, two, oh, Lordie, you're killing me!" As Lucy's hips swerved violently this way and that, her knees bent, and her eyes began to blur with tears.
"Maybe next time," the plump secretary of the sorority declared, "you'll think twice before trying to do a half-ass job when I give you an order, frosh. And you're going to stay in and shine those shoes until you can see your own snivelling face in them, get me? Now get that big hind end of yours ready for more swats. Three to go, and then five good whammers on the bare tail, don't forget!"
"Oh, dear! Oh please, I-aahhrrr! Owww! Three! Ohh, you're just killing me, you're just killing me!" Lucy's tremulous rejoinder was suddenly interrupted as the paddle landed squarely across both globes at their lower summits, almost propelling her forward and making her lose her balance. With a violent effort, she remained bent over as she was, her body shuddering and her thighs rubbing frantically together. Through the victim's thin, gauzy panties, Trude Jordan's gray-green eyes could see the vivid, bright splotches left by the imprint of the oval-shaped punishment weapon. The sinuous crease between Lucy Daniels' bottom globes tightened, yawned, contracted again as spasmodic tremors visited the out-thrust, throbbingly hot posterior.
"I told you to keep your dress and slip rolled up good and high, didn't I? They're almost falling down again, so get with it, frosh!" Trude Jordan sadistically ordered. With a moan, the tearful young auburn-haired freshman straightened, not without wincing in so tragic-ludicrous a manner that even Trude had to smile, groped for her uptrussed garments and feverishly rolled them up into a tighter wad than ever, then bent down again and grasped her ankles.
Trude slowly extended the paddle in her right hand and pressed it meaningfully across the base of both huddling nether globes. Lucy caught her breath and it was audible, deepening the cruel, sensual smile of the plump sorority secretary. Once again she kept her victim in dire suspense by keeping the paddle pressed against the quivering, flinching flesh, and then at last slowly drew it back, poised it again a moment before stepping forward and swinging it horizontally against the very spot she had singled out for punitive assault.
"Eeeyeowwwouuuuu!!! Four! Oh my Lordie, oh please let up, oh I'm burning up, I just can't stand it, Madame-Madame S-Secretary!" Lucy Daniels sobbed. Again she grabbed for her bottom and tried to massage it, while the sadistic Lesbian blonde savoringly relished her victim's misery before at last, in a harsh voice, commanding, "Nobody gave you permission to cover up, frosh! I've got half a notion to start all over again with one."
"Oh no, oh please don't do that, oh you don't know how awfully it hurts!" poor Lucy wailed, at once drawing her hands away and this time grasping her knees as she remained bent over in that lasciviously servile pose.
"Try it again and we really will go back to one," Trude warned as again she extended the paddle and patted the upper right bottom cheek of the victim to warn her that that was where the next stroke was going to be administered.
And once again, as before, she stretched out the fateful moment, till poor Lucy Daniels broke down and began to sniffle and to beg for mercy. In the midst of it, the paddle swiftly rose and fell, and a harrowing scream was torn from the auburn-haired freshman. "Aiiii! Ohh, oh please, oh let me off now, you're just killing me, I can't stand it anymore, truly I can't, Madame Secretary! Oh please won't you spare me the rest, I just know I'll never be able to stand up!"
Trude Jordan lowered the paddle and once again studied the intoxicating spectacle before her. Lucy's deliciously ample bottom globes, furiously reddened and quite visible in that martyrized condition through the thin panties, was executing a most salacious squirming as if the intolerable heat had broken through her self-control, which indeed it had. Tears ran down Lucy's cheeks, and her hands moved frantically from her ankles to her knees and back to her ankles again, as she piteously looked round and tried to entreat her tormentress to spare her.
"I'll take your panties down myself, Daniels," Trude decreed. "You're going to get six, because you forgot to count that last fifth swat."
"Oh noooo!! Oh please, not so many, oh this is awful!" Lucy wailed.
Stepping forward, the plump secretary of Delta Gamma Phi, tucking her paddle under her left arm, inserted her fingers in the waistband of the nylon briefs and yanked them down to the girl's knee hollows. It was her turn to suck in her breath as her eyes feasted on that magnificent, springy-fleshed naked bottom, whose pale rosy-flecked sheen had been dispersed in favor of the darkening imprints of the punishment paddle. By contrast, that lovely, velvety sheen was vividly visible along Lucy's upper thighs and lower back. And, still bent over her waist, she exposed unwittingly the soft pink lips of her virgin cunt framed by surprisingly thick curls of dark auburn pussy-hair.
"Six," Trude mercilessly repeated, "and you'll count them out just like you did the others. But the way you're yowling, frosh, I better gag you first. You just stay right there and open your mouth real wide!"
Sobbing heartrendingly, Lucy Daniels obeyed. Trude gave her a sly glance, then walked over to her mahogany dresser, tugged open the bottom drawer and took out a pair of pink nylon panties. They were a week old and had not been laundered. Moreover, they had been moistened with her own urine, for the week before she had had a slight accident and been unable to get them down in time to make the toilet.
Wadding these into a ball, she moved round in front of the bent-over freshman, squatted down and proffered the ingeniously improvised gag to poor Lucy's gaping mouth. "Take it all in, frosh," she directed," and don't you dare spit them out. That'll keep your yowls down to room volume. Think I want everybody to know that I'm the Big Sister of the worst crybaby on campus? All right now. Get that big tail of yours ready for six of the best!"
Already, she was feeling a twitching between her legs as she moved back behind the sobbing helpless freshman. Under her skirt and sweater she wore only a bra and panties, her legs bare and obscenely white. Her plump calves and thighs were really voluptuously formed, and if she had managed to lose some twenty pounds, she would really have had one of the most voluptuous bodies in the entire sorority house.
She sniggered as she saw Lucy's naked bottom cheeks tighten instinctively, knowing that the girl was attempting in the most ingenuous way to put up a defense against the harassment of the spanking paddle, since the girl's resistance was already lessened by the obviously painful preliminary ordeal which poor Lucy had had to undergo. Pressing the paddle firmly against both quivering bare rotundities over their ripest curves, she announced, "Six, and count 'em so I can hear you, even through that gag!"
What she asked, of course, was virtually impossible and she knew it. It would serve as further pretext to coerce the enticing young virginal freshman into the depraved capitulation of a body which the sadistic Lesbian now lusted for with the most furious and avid desire.
She drew back the paddle, held it suspended for a moment, and then applied a particularly vicious swat, stepping forward and giving the implement added impetus as it wickedly cracked over the shuddering, naked, discolored flesh of Lucy's bare behind.
"Ahgggggmfffffagghhhh!!" the prolonged, agonized wail was muffled, incoherent. But Lucy's body twisted and jerked as if she were a puppet pulled by invisible strings, her knees bending, then clashing together, one thigh rubbing against its sweet sister, while a long violent rippling shudder visited her calves and thighs and made the cheeks of her furiously inflamed naked seat twitch and contract in the most spectacular way.
"I'm sorry I didn't hear that first count, pledge. We'll have to start all over again," Trude heartlessly announced.
It was too much. Lucy Daniels grabbed at her mouth with both hands, tore out the gag, and then flung herself down on her knees before her heartless tormentress, hands clasped, tears streaming down her cheeks: "Oh don't! I'll do anything you want, anything! Please don't hit me again, you don't know how it hurts me! I just can't stand it anymore, Madame Secretary, oh please, please have mercy!"
"How dare you leave position and take that gag out? I ought to give you twenty-five, and call all the girls in to watch you get it," Trude Jordan hissed. But her eyes had narrowed and her lips were moist and quivering as she pursued, in a gender tone this time, one that was insinuating and confidential: "However, what you just said might just save that big tender heinie of yours. What is this you said about doing anything if I wouldn't swat you anymore?"
"Oh I mean it! Anything at all! I'll shine your shoes so good-you'll see, oh please, Madame Secretary! Please don't hit me anymore with that paddle. I'd just die!" Lucy clasped her hands and rocked back and forth on her knees in the most abject supplication imaginable.
"Hmm," Trude Jordan purred. She lifted the paddle in the air and made a few imaginary swishes with it, grinning as she watched the tearful freshman squirm and gasp in apprehension. "So you'll really do anything if I let you off the six?"
"Oh yes, anything, Madame Secretary!"
"We'll just see about that. But understand this, Lucy, if you go back on your word, you get not six but twelve, and I'll put you on report to the sorority. Then Madge Trenton will call you up in front of all the girls and we'll have a trial and if you're found guilty, you can kiss that big heinie of yours good-bye forever, understand?"
Lucy Daniels, mute with terror, could only nod, her eyes hypnotically fixed on the vicious, swinging implement which had already dealt her tender behind such burning anguish.
"All right then. Stand up and take off everything you've got except your garter belt and stockings."
Lucy hastened to obey, not knowing what her tormentress intended of her, thinking only that by feverish compliance with the order, she might save her inflamed, burning posterior any more of that awful paddle misery.
Her auburn hair was styled in a pretty pageboy, with the ends turned under, and it fell caressingly about her dimpled shoulders. She was altogether an extremely tasty morsel, and Trude Jordan licked her lips as a fox does when it comes upon a chicken yard. Like those chickens, her prey was absolutely helpless. For Delta Gamma Phi maintained the most autocratic and rigid ritualism of all the sorority and fraternity houses on campus; the word of an officer was always taken over that of a pledge, and never once had a pledge appearing before the tribunal of her peers been found not guilty. To demand a hearing, as some rather foolhardy pledges had tried in years past, invariably brought additional punishment.
"All right now," Trade's voice was strangely tender and husky. "Get down on your knees again and crawl over to me. Then you can take off my skirt."
Lucy Daniels quickly obeyed. She looked up, wonderingly into Trade's flushed, cruelly grinning face.
"That's fine. Now my panties. Take them off nice and neatly now, and don't tear them, or this paddle will tear the skin off your hind end but good!" she warned.
Unhesitatingly, the auburn-haired freshman obeyed. She revealed the deeply dimpled, round belly of her tormentress with its narrow deep navel, the prominent, plump mound of Venus with dark blonde curls almost hiding the lips of Trade's snatch, and the secretary's plump but beautifully proportioned thighs. Naked now except for sandals, bra and sweater, Trude Jordan straddled her legs obscenely and, still gripping the paddle in her right hand and tapping its applicator into her left palm, hissed, "Now put your hands round and grab hold of my bottom and start gamming me, frosh!"
"Don't tell me you're a real cherry! Haven't you even got a boyfriend, Lucy?"
Lucy's face flamed and she lowered her eyes. Trade's smile deepened in its warped sadistic curve. "I see. Only you two have probably been talking about Plato and civil rights instead of making out, I'll bet. So you don't know what gamming it, huh? Well, you just do what I tell you to, or you know what else you'll get. Now put your hands against my butt and hold on tight!"
Her voice rose angrily, and Lucy Daniels, with a frantic little cry, hastened to do as bidden.
"That's right. Now just put your mouth up against my pussy and start licking and sucking and kissing it. I want to feel your little tongue going on in, too, get me?"
"Ohhhhh nooooo!!" Lucy breathed, absolutely consternated, as she lifted her tear-brimming eyes to her cruel tormentress.
"What do you mean, no? No pledge ever tells a Big Sister no. I think I'll make it twenty-four swats. Then I'm gonna call for a meeting of all the sisters, and we're going to blackball you, you prissy little bitch. You'll get kicked out all right, but before you do, you'll go through the mill. You know what going through the mill means? You crawl on all fours, bare-butt naked, and we land on your ass with paddles. And we'll make you go through four or five times just to be sure you never forget what a poopout you were."
Lucy was conquered. Her abject terror showed plainly in her dialated eyes, her trembling chin. Her face turned scarlet as, closing her eyes, her trembling hands pressing feverishly against the plump rounds of Trude Jordan's naked behind, she compelled herself to perform the odious task demanded of her by the sadistic Lesbian sorority secretary.
Trude moaned with delight, tilting back her head and half-closing her eyes, as she felt that virginally amateur, sweet, trembling mouth press against the lips of her twitching cunthole. In a raucous, passion-throbbing voice she gave the girl explicit instructions. Whimpering, overwhelmed with shame and odium, poor Lucy Daniels nonetheless had to conform. And suddenly Trude grasped the girl's hair, twisting her fingers into it and yanking it as with a sobbing cry she gave down her Sapphic love-gush.
Then, almost contemptuously, she pushed the girl away and sneered, "You got lots to learn. But I'll teach you, don't you worry, Lucy. By the time you get to initiation night, you're going to be the best gammer in the house. Now go wash your face; and then come back here at once. We're going to go to bed and I'm gonna start giving you lessons. And don't forget, I'll have my paddle right alongside me all the time!"
CHAPTER THREE
At about the same time Elaine Horton was awaiting her swats from Beverly Wilson, the president of Delta Gamma Phi upstairs in Mrs. Noreen Grange's room on the second floor rear of the sorority house.
Because Beverly Wilson had blackmailed her into giving up Elaine, Madge had had to satisfy herself with Lorna Yerkes, sixteen and one-half, dark brown-haired, petite and delightfully plump. Lorna was a freshman pledge whose guardian had enrolled her in Northeastern so that he could continue his illicit liaison with a flamboyant henna-haired waitress who worked a couple of blocks away from his Lansing, Michigan savings and loan association where he was vice-president and busy keeping the news of this liaison from his frumpish wife. He was also extremely busy in diverting as much as he could get away with the funds in Lorna's trust, since he had been appointed administrator for her estate under the terms of her dead parents' will. He had rightly figured that if Lorna remained in Lansing, she would be harder to handle because she would be on his neck all the time about her legacy; sent away as far as she was, her opportunities of checking up on him would be minimized.
At the moment, Lorna had been set to work mopping the floor of her "Big Sister's" room and admonished to do a particularly good job-or else. Lorna had been a pampered only child, adored by both her parents, who had worked together as partners in a highly successful interior decorating business. They had died just last year in an automobile accident on the way back from Cleveland, where Lorna's father induced the owner of one of the city's largest independent hotels to commission him for a complete overhauling of decor.
Delta Gamma Phi always investigated the backgrounds of its pledges, as any good sorority house will do. But for these cultish sisters who reveled in luxury and clandestine amours generally forbidden at a major institution of learning, their investigation was even more intensive. They had found out for example, that Lorna was a young heiress. They intended to induce her to make several generous contributions to the sorority out of sheer gratitude for being invited to become a sister member. But this did not exempt her from the tyrannical rule of a "Big Sister" anymore than it would save her tender, plump, pale white-skinned bottom from "Hell Week."
Indeed, while she crouched on all fours in the middle of Madge's room, the petite freshman was commiserating herself over having already tasted the paddle just yesterday when one of her flippant remarks had infuriated the domineering auburn-haired sorority prexy. Madge Trenton had made her go to the mantelpiece, bring back the paddle, kneel down and kiss it, and then lift it up numbly and request seven hard swats for impertinence. And then poor Lorna had had to assume the angle, forbidden to straighten up on pain of extras. It had been all she could do to endure the wickedly burning spanks which flattened her resilient, plump bottom globes, and she had yowled and sobbed and begged for mercy long before the allotted seven had found their predestined mark. She had no intention this afternoon of incurring another dose of the same medicine. Just the same, she was already homesick for Lansing and she was just dying to pick up the phone and call Uncle Benjamin (this being the endearment with which she referred to her guardian) and beg him to bring her back home and let her go to Lansing Girls' College instead.
Madge had purposely given her pledge-slave this arduous and lengthy task so that she could be alone with the housemother. Mrs. Noreen Grange's door was vigilantly locked, and a placard reading "Out for the Afternoon" dangled from the doorknob. Beverly Wilson would have guessed exactly why the sign was there and known that its information was false. But Madge Trenton didn't really care. She had made her pact with the black-haired vice-president by giving her Elaine, and that was the end to it as far as she was concerned.
Noreen Grange's room was actually a set of two rooms, with a tiny kitchenette and bath. The living room was huge, and then there was a bedroom occupied almost entirely by a mammoth double bed. There was a built-in hi-fi set in the wall with stereo speakers, and right now it was playing "La Mer," Debussy's exquisite tone poem of the sea. The part called "Dialogue of the Wind and the Waves" was wafting through the speakers as Noreen Grange put her hands on Madge's proud, widely spaced pear-shaped titties and whispered, "Darling, won't you let me at least watch the Hell Week goings-on even if you won't let me take part in them?"
"Now listen, Noreen, you know that's not allowed. I'd have to get a vote from all the officers, and it's never been done before. In the first place, technically you're not supposed to know that we still haze at the house. That way you won't get into trouble if the Dean should ever ask you. And in the second place, you naughty bitch, I know that you're just sadistic enough to get your kicks putting those poor freshman pledges through their paces for your own satisfaction. And when it comes to satisfying you, Noreen honey, I think I can do it pretty well."
"I know you can, lover," Noreen Grange sighed. She hardly looked her forty-five years, for her sandy-colored hair had been styled in a Sassoon bob and neatly touched up with hair coloring to hide the telltale streaks of gray. About five feet five inches in height, she was superbly Junoesque in build, with big, full but still wonderfully firm titties set closely together and high-perched on her carnation-satiny chest. Her buttocks were spacious and compact, and her thighs were lusciously rounded. She hardly looked more than thirty, and she loved best of all with Madge Trenton to act even younger.
Noreen Grange actually retained her maiden name, having originally been Mrs. Adelbert Thorgerson for about five years between her twentieth and twenty-fifth year. She too had been an only child, oversexed but misdirected, and her parents had been wealthy antique dealers in Boston, doing a good deal of traveling. Noreen had been seduced by her own English governess at the age of fourteen, and thereafter preferred the embraces of her own sex. Her parents were divorced when she was eighteen, her mother to remarry in Europe and live in Paris, while her father went to San Francisco and married a girl half his age. She had not written to either of them in years.
They had contributed to a substantial fund which she came into at the age of twenty-one, the year after her mistaken marriage. She had been going to a very fashionable and selective girls' private college near Cambridge when her penchant for pussy rubbing was discovered by none other than the Dean of Women. Noreen Grange was promptly expelled, and what was worst of all, her parents were informed as to the reason. When Noreen returned home the next day, her father marched her into his study, bent her over his lap and, despite her horrified and indignant protests, peeled up her skirt and petticoat, tugged down her pantie-girdle, and proceeded to give her the worst thrashing of her life, first with his hand and then with his belt. Then he had ragingly informed her that she was no daughter of his and that he and her mother would see to it that she received sufficient money to live in comfort so long as she stayed away from them.
As a kind of spiteful gesture to prove to her father how wrong he was about her, Noreen promptly married Adelbert Thorgerson, a man of thirty-eight, an assistant professor of history whom she had met in a Boston bookshop. It was an ironic marriage, because Noreen did not know that her husband was fond of boys; for his part, he thought that the presence of a wife on his campus would put an end to the noxious rumors concerning his homosexual preferences.
The marriage did manage to last five years, and Noreen did lose her virginity. But so perfunctory was her husband in fulfilling his marital duties that she gradually came to understand why he was reluctant to enjoy her opulent charms. She therefore made an agreement with him to follow her own way and let him follow his. All would have gone well had he not been caught in flagrante delicto with his favorite pupil, and been summarily dismissed from his teaching post. At this point Noreen sued for divorce and obtained an out-of-court settlement.
For the next fifteen years she flitted from campus to campus, managing to hold a post in teaching (since she had obtained enough credits for a certificate to the lower grades), but invariably losing her job and having to leave the town because of a noisome reputation she gleaned through her love for pussy. Three years ago, in virtual desperation, she had thought of the idea of using her maiden name and of forging credentials, in which act a wealthy Lesbian beauty in a small town in North Dakota abetted her by posing as the Dean of Women in a nonexistent school. Her luck in finding a new job had been bleak indeed, until quite by accident she had met the aristocratic and extremely wealthy Mrs. Henry Davisson, herself a Delta Gamma Phi charter member and mother of two daughters who now belonged to the same elite sorority. Mrs. Davisson, wearied of her stodgy stockbroker husband, had already experimented in the twilight zone of Sappho. She and Noreen Grange went to bed together, and the upshot was that Noreen was, a month later, installed as housemother at the sorority house on the Northeastern campus. ... But one of the reasons that Noreen Grange had lost so many posts, was that, in addition to her perverse desire to force her young girl pupils to share her bed, she was a fervent addict of corporal punishment. That was why, ever since she had come to the Delta Gamma Phi house, she had tried her best to be invited to "Hell Week" activities and, even more so to be one of those who wielded a paddle against the naked, shuddering, inflamed bottoms of the weeping freshman pledges.
"I suppose you're right," she ruefully murmured as she snuggled closer to Madge's voluptuous young naked body. The two women lay entwined, on their sides facing each other, wearing only garterbelts and sheer nylon hose. Madge Trenton, rather svelte and about five feet seven in height, had an excitingly tawny-sheened skin, an impudent oval-shaped bottom, long supple thighs and nervously chiseled, high-set calves. Her hazel eyes were humid now with lust as she put her mouth to one of Noreen's big firm bubbies and began delicately to flick the nipple with the tip of her pert pink tongue. "You know I'm right, Reeny," she purred. "But I know what's itching you, baby. If you're awfully good, maybe mama'll let you work over just one pledge when she's specially naughty. There's bound to be one little bitch in this house who will break all the rules, you'll see. Would you like that, Reeny baby?"
"Wouldn't I just!" the blonde divorcee sighed. Sinuously she began to rub her furry crotch against Madge's thick, curly, dark auburn love bush. "I'd be ever so grateful to you, Madgie lover, if you'll let me-just once. Mmm, would I ever! And I wouldn't ever let that snippy Beverly Wilson get into my bed, I promise faithfully."
"You just better not let me catch you doing it, Reeny," Madge throatily murmured, pausing in her assiduous wooing of Noreen Grange's darkening, firming nipple bud, while she slipped one slim hand down between their bellies, felt with an inquisitive forefinger for the blonde divorcee's clitoris and began to frig it lingeringly, "or you might wind up going through the mill yourself! Now shut up and let's love-fuck!"
CHAPTER FOUR
Elaine Horton sighed nervously, glanced around from her bent over position. Her "Big Sister" Beverly Wilson hadn't started the paddling yet but had kept her there in this humiliating pose, holding onto her ankles and with her bottom tremblingly and flinchingly upturned. "Oh, p-please, she faintly quavered, "do get it over with M-Madame Vice President!"
Black-haired Beverly smiled gloatingly. "I think that skirt of yours is going to be in the way, pledge. Straighten up now, take it off, and then you can go back down and grab! Hurry up now!"
With a groan of shame, Elaine Horton slowly straightened up and unhooked the waistband of her blue miniskirt, letting the garment flutter to the floor. Under her pantie-hose, a dainty pair of white nylon pantie briefs snugged over the ample, lusciously rounded cheeks of her behind. Her sensitive oval face was scarlet with humiliation as she glanced at her tormentress and prepared to assume the angle once again. But once again, out of sadistic whim, the brunette vice president of Delta Gamma Phi stopped her by putting out one hand and shaking her head: "Not so fast, pledge! I don't like your attitude much. Wipe that snotty look off your face and do it fast! Look humble, if you know how, you stupid frosh. So you want to be a Delta Gamma Phi sister, do you? Boy, are you going to have lots to learn before Hell Week!"
Elaine Horton bit her lips to keep from exploding into rebellious indignation. She had heard vaguely that some of the sorority houses did do a little bit of hazing, but she had never dreamed it would be anything like this. Why, this elegant girl was treating her just as if she were a slave! Elaine, however, hadn't even begun to divine what was in store for her, or she might well have braved blackballing and left the sorority house then and there.
Her dark brown hair was styled in a thick pageboy, with the ends turned under, combed high away from the forehead and framing her delicate features. She had enormous eyes that matched her hair, soulfully expressive, and a soft sweet mouth with somewhat riper lower lip. Her dainty little Grecian nose was exquisitely chiseled, and the thin sensuous sings dilated and shrank now in her emotional agitation. At seventeen, she already had the body of a woman, and her short-sleeved blouse and matching white nylon bra underneath shaped out high-set proudly erect, widely spaced young titties.
"Aren't you going to say something, pledge?" Beverly Wilson sarcastically demanded, swinging the paddle back and forth and grinning at her victim with malicious anticipation.
"I-I'm sorry, M-Madame Vice President," Elaine stammered, trying to control the trembling fury and humiliation in her voice. But her fists were clenched, a subconscious sign of defiance, and Beverly Wilson recognized it for what it truly was. Her smile deepened: "Ordinarily, pledge," she said in the sort of tone an instructress might use to a stupid child, "until Hell Week the Big Sister is permitted to deal .out on-the-spot punishment when her pledge is impertinent or lazy or forgetful. And we usually don't have a freshman get it on the bare unless she's before a tribunal for a really serious fault. But I bet right now you'd like to punch me, because just look at the way you've got your fists all doubled up-oh no, it's a little too late because I see what you mean. Now listen to me. I want you to roll both your pantyhose and panties down to your knees, and then you can go back down and grab your ankles. Eight good swats, and you'll count them out for me and say, "Thank you, Madame Vice President' after every one. Now get with it! It's getting late, I've wasted enough time on you already, Horton."
The lovely young dark brown-haired pledge turned a furious scarlet, her eyes huge with incredulous mortification. "Please-please-M-Madame Vice President, don't make me do that," she said in a low, unsteady voice. "It-it's not fair-I-I'm trying hard to get used to what I have to do-nobody told me-"
"I'm telling you now, stupid," Bervery Wilson's voice cut like a whiplash as her eyes narrowed with malevolent triumph. "Are you going to show me your bare ass or do I call a tribunal meeting? You can take it from me, Horton, that if I do, you'll go through the mill with all the girls, and you're very likely to be blackballed on top of it."
Elaine Horton was the only child born to Mavis Horton, who, twenty-four years ago, had herself been president of this very same sorority at Northeastern. Mavis Horton, now a widow and left very well off by her recently deceased husband (a prosperous farmer in Dolton), had kept after her daughter all through high school to urge the girl to choose Northeastern as her preferred college so that she too might in time become an alumnus of Delta Gamma Phi.
Elaine hadn't really wanted to join the sorority, but she had yielded to her mother's insistence. Right now, Mavis Horton was trying to sell the farm, which had been turned over to a handsome, virile handyman named Chuck Wilmer. Elaine had been glad to leave Dolton and come here to Northeastern, about two hundred miles away in the northeastern part of Illinois. Because she had once accidentally seen her buxom blonde mother and the handyman in the latter's little cottage near the barn, her mother wearing only a slip furled up to her big full titties and her naked legs wrapped around Chuck's wiry naked behind as he jogged up and down, driving his stiff prick deep into her cunthole. Elaine had loved her father, a gentle intellectual man in spite of his work as a tiller of the soil; he had been virtually self-taught and had inculcated in her a love for books and studies which had made her determined to go on to college so that one day she might escape the doldrums of small-town life.
So she had two good reasons for coming here to Northeastern, but now she faced the most terrible crisis of her sweet young life. As she saw Beverly Wilson glaring at her, swishing the paddle back and forth in the air, and she knew how cruel this brunette dominatress was going to be to her. What Elaine Horton had to do was weigh the pros and cons of the situation; finally, with a deep groan of utter mortification, she put her trembling fingers behind her and began to roll down the body sheath and the nylon panties beneath, till they had both reached the hollows of her dimpled knees.
"It's lucky for you that you did it just now, you snotty frosh you," Beverly Wilson vindictively hissed. "And for taking your own sweet time, the count is now ten. Ten good swats on the bare ass, Horton. Don't forget, you have to count each one out and thank me with my proper title. Now grab your ankles and let's get with it!"
Elaine closed her eyes, her blushes spreading to her temples and her throat and even to her earlobes as she slowly bent over took hold of her slim ankles, all too miserably aware that her spaciously round, full milky-white bottom cheeks were sticking out in the most obscenely vulnerable manner imaginable. She clenched her thighs as best she could, wanting to hide the most intimate parts of her self. But she couldn't help showing Beverly Wilson the curly tufts of dark brown pussyhair which framed the soft delicate pink lips of her virgin quim, nor the deep, shadowy groove which separated the huddling cheeks of her upturned, out-thrust bare bottom.
"Get ready, Horton!" Beverly Wilson snapped. She took hold of the paddle with both hands intent on crushing the spirit of this sensitive freshman. Slowly she brought the paddle forward till it brushed Elaine Horton's naked bottom summits, and the girl uttered a stifled gasp and stiffened herself in readiness.
Beverly Wilson smiled as she moved over farther to the victim's left, keeping the paddle pressed against the shuddering milky contours. Then, drawing back the implement, she applied a noisy swat over the ripest curves of both naked bottom globes.
"Ohhhh! Oh-thank you, Madame Vice P-President!" Elaine blurted in a strained, high-pitched voice which indicated frantic torment caused by that shocking impact of wood against tender bare virgin girl flesh. She swayed a little under the impact of the spank, and at once a flaming outline of the oval-shaped implement rose up on the milky escutcheon of her naked seat. Her calf-muscles flexed violently, and long rippling shivers ascended her voluptuous, admirably curved thighs. The palpitating flesh of her behind seemed suddenly to be attacked by a wave of rippling tremors.
"Why, that was very good," Beverly mocked her. "You've got nine left. And don't forget to count each one loud and clear and I want to hear that 'Madame Vice President' really sung out, hear me?"
"Y-yes," Elaine muttered dully as she took a firmer grip of her ankles.
"We're going to start all over again at ten, stupid! You forgot to give me my title that time.
Don't you ever forget it when you're answering a question or talking back to me at all from now on," the black-haired vice president of the sorority sadistically proclaimed.
Elaine Horton was crushed by the injustice and the cruelty of her merciless tormentress. But a stoic courage forced her to endure it, and all because of her mother's desires. Besides, she had told herself she was going to prove that she was superior to this arrogant senior, and defiance alone wouldn't do the trick. She understood that if she did rebel openly, Beverly Wilson could sentence her to a summons before all the girls, who could vote her a really severe punishment and expulsion with disgrace. That would just about kill her mother.
"I-I'm sorry, Madame Vice President," she forced herself to say humbly.
Beverly beamed with satisfaction at her conquest. She would have this juicy little freshman pledge eating out of her hand and crawling around licking her pumps by the time "Hell Week" came around. Once again she pressed the paddle firmly against the jouncy, out-thrust naked bottom summits. Then quickly, without giving the girl time to ready herself, she launched the paddle forward with an angry Smack!
"Oww! One, thank you, M-Madame V-Vice P-President!" Elaine Horton called out, her voice unsteady and husky with the telltale threat of sobs and tears. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, as she looked up at the wall beyond her, took a firmer grip again on the slim ankles and waited. The ignominy and the shame of bending over like this and showing everything she had to offer and sticking her bare bottom out to that cruel girl almost annihilated her. Only the thought that she was going to prove her courage and beat Beverly at her own game together with her pledge to her mother made her continue to submit herself so ignominiously.
Beverly Wilson's eyes fixed on the peeping pink fig of Elaine Horton's soft virgin cunthole. She promised herself many a hot night of girlfucking with this sweet little milky-skinned bitch, once the latter had been thoroughly broken in and taught her place in the scheme of things. She determined to make Elaine cry and grovel for mercy. The paddle rose up, this time without first grazing the shivering bare flesh of the victim's bottom, and landed with a crisp Thwack!" on the upper right bottom cheek, making Elaine sway perilously and go off balance. With an effort she righted herself, emitted a sobbing groan and announced the count and provided Beverly's title as commanded.
After the fifth swat, Elaine's milky young bottom was violently reddened, and the cheeks were quaking and squirming uncontrollably as the dark brown-haired freshman drew several long breaths and shifted her hands around her ankles to get a better stance. Tears were running slowly down her cheeks, and her eyes were bright and glazed with them, as she stared down at the floor and ground her teeth together to await the resumption of the paddling. The sixth spank smacked against the base of the left buttock, and she swayed a little as she cried out shrilly, "Oww, six, th-thank you, Madame Vice President!"
"You're very welcome, Horton. I must say you're taking it much more bravely than I thought you would. But I'll make you beg for mercy, you watch and see. Get ready for the next one now, it's going to be a doozy!" Beverly Wilson tauntingly promised. This time she patted the naked posterior all over, intensifying the victim's suspense, and gloated to see poor Elaine wriggle and squirm uneasily and glance nervously back. Then slowly she lifted the paddle up and brought it down hard on the base of the left buttock. A shrill cry of pain was torn from the courageous young sufferer, but once again she did not fail to announce the count and to call Beverly by the obligatory title.
Beverly scowled. With only three swats left, she hadn't yet accomplished her purpose. What she really wanted was to make Elaine Horton agree to go to bed with her and to gam her and to do all the other sweet little things a pledge could do for her "Big Sister." This was a kind of challenge, as she lowered the paddle and then swung it upwards, colliding it once again with the base of the right buttock at an angle. "Eeeowwouuu! Oh not so hard, please, eight, thank you, M-Madame V-Vice P-President!" Elaine Horton groaned.
The ninth swat took fully a minute before it fell in a horizontal sweep that pinched and flattened both lower summits and drew a sobbing wail of heartfelt anguish from the lovely young freshman pledge. This time it took poor Elaine a few moments to compose her voice and at last call out the proper count and address Beverly as was fitting. Disgruntled at not accomplishing her insidious purpose, the brunette vice president of the sorority applied the last swat with all her strength over both bottom summits. This time Elaine half-straightened, uttered a wild cry of pain, and then, frantically rubbing her inflamed and swollen bare behind, sobbed out the final count and title.
Beverly Wilson walked round in front of her victim, and stuck the paddle under the latter's nose. "Kiss it now, and thank your Big Sister for taking such pains with you, Horton!" was her command.
Elaine drank the cup of humiliation to the very dregs. Her whole body shuddering, she nonetheless obeyed and thus performed the servile ritual of homage. Beverly Wilson studied the girl for a moment and then shrugged, "I'm done with you, Horton. Now you get right over to Denby's and get me a hamburger, the French fries and the double chocolate shake on the double, savvy? And you better not stop to see the Dean or anybody else on your way, because I'll give you just ten minutes. For every minute you're late, you'll get two swats on the bare ass again. Dismiss!"
Putting the paddle back on the mantelpiece, the brunette senior sprawled into an armchair, lifted one lovely leg over the arm so as to straddle her luscious legs, and began to peruse a movie magazine while Elaine Horton, sniffling and shivering, slowly tugged up the rucked-down body sheath and the wispy panties, bent once again to retrieve and hook back on her skirt, and then painfully and slowly, seeming to hobble, left the room of her "Big Sister."
Denby's was only about a block and a half away from the sorority house, but there was a big line there already and Elaine's heart sank. Her poor bottom ached and burned like the very dickens. It really had been her very first spanking, and the shame of it agonized her more than the pain though that was considerable. "Oh dear!" she said half-aloud as she saw the lines in front of the fountain and the pretty young schoolgirl waitresses hurrying here and there with laden trays.
"Maybe I can help out," a pleasant male voice came to her ear. She looked to her right and there was a tow-headed, smiling, tall, very good-looking boy next in line at the counter.
"Oh could you? I-I'm a freshman, and my B-Big Sister says I have to be back in ten minutes or?" Elaine Horton stammered.
"Or else you'll get paddled," the youth finished with a grin. "Come on up, and I'll turn in your order with mine."
"Hey, what's the big idea?" a bespectacled, pimply-faced sophomore behind him whined.
"Want to make something of it, Four-eyes?" the tow-headed youth, obviously a senior from the cords he was wearing, growled.
There was no reply, and the affable senior beckoned to the intensely grateful dark brown-haired freshman pledge.
While she was waiting for the order, the boy said to her, "My name's Chuck Warner. I'm a senior, and I'm all the way from Minnesota. You're cute, and this is the first time I've seen you."
"I-I'm Elaine Horton, and I come from D-Dolton, Mr. Warner-"
"That's rich! Nobody's ever called me Mister before. Just make it Chuck, honey. I'm over at the Phi Beta Episilon frat house. And you're a Delta Gamma Phi, I'll bet."
"How can you tell?" Elaine momentarily forgot her burning bottom as she looked with interest at the pleasant-featured senior. He had awfully nice blue eyes and a good firm chin and smiling mouth.
"Anybody can. Those girls run their poor freshies ragged, and I can see you're suffering. Here's your order. Let me stand treat."
"Oh no, I wouldn't think of it, Mister-I mean Ch-Chuck," Elaine gasped, blushing violently.
"You never mind. It isn't often one meets such a cute freshman. Like I say, I'd like to see more of you. Mind if I call at the house sometime in the next week or so?"
Elaine watched him take out a well-filled wallet, lay down a five-dollar bill and make a grandiose gesture to the harassed young fountain clerk to keep the change. She took the little box in which the hamburger, fries and double chocolate shake had been put, blushed deeply as Chuck Warner's eyes fixed on her and she saw him smile. "Thanks-thanks an awful lot, Chuck," she breathed, "I'd like it a lot if I could see you again. Bye now."
The sophomore behind him turned to watch the luscious dark brown-haired freshman leave the shop. When he turned back, he found Chuck Warner glaring at him: "Looking for something, Four-eyes? Well, don't let me catch you again, not at that chick. I've got her staked out as my property."
Elaine Horton didn't know it, but she had found someone who was going to avenge her smarting bottom and teach her that a girl can get hot in front after she has had a spanking in a way that will make her forget the paddle pains and remember only the ecstasy of fucking, frigging and a good loving tonguing!
CHAPTER FIVE
Pretty Lorna Yerkes was grateful this Saturday afternoon that her "Big Sister" Madge Trenton had condescendingly told her she might have the afternoon off. Lorna had no way of knowing that the insolently domineering sorority prexy intended to spend that afternoon with Noreen Grange, as a kind of compensation to the housemother for having denied the latter's request to take part in the "Hell Week" hazing ceremonies.
Lorna had tried to call her guardian this morning, but he hadn't been home. He too was busy elsewhere, having spent the night (and all the spunk he had saved up in his balls) with his henna-haired waitress. His dowdy wife had been called away to Toledo to be at the bedside of her seriously ill sister, and Lorna's guardian looked forward to an uninterrupted weekend of fucking, being sucked (for his girlfriend Jeannette preferred to French a man rather than be fucked) and also to catch up on his drinking. His wife, a prim churchgoer, had consistently forbidden him to keep liquor in the house all through their marriage.
Lorna was still very homesick for Lansing. She knew she was being a silly little cry-baby because here she was in college, with plenty of spending money and a chance to meet new boyfriends.
Her high-school grades had been outstanding, and that was why she had started this fall term in Northeastern before she was actually seventeen. However, this scholastic excellence in no way meant that Lorna Yerkes was a greasy grind; quite the contrary. One of the reasons she was homesick for Lansing was Bud Bradbury, a gangling, pleasant-faced brown-haired boy of sixteen who had been the senior class treasurer. She had had several dates with Bud and she had let him go farther with her than any other boy she'd ever known before. Her parents had died nearly three years ago in an automobile crash on the Pennsylvania turnpike on their way to New York to attend the Broadway opening of her father's smash hit play. Lorna, an only child, had loved her parents dearly, and had spent several summers in Europe with them. She was therefore precociously aware of the facts of life, though at the same time her parents had guarded her so vigilantly and explained to her about the dangers of sex before marriage that she had really had no opportunity to discover what a passionate piece of pussy she really was. True, she had learned the secret joys of frigging herself and had often eased a tension-filled night by toying with her dainty pink quim. But until Bud Brad bury had come along, she hadn't even thought very much about having a boy undress and kiss and feel her up and rub his cock over her inner thighs and just pretend to put it into her furry little nest.
Her "Uncle Benjamin" (the philandering guardian) had hired an elderly, motherly housekeeper to look after her. He had arranged for her entry to Northeastern to get rid of her so that he could systematically loot her trust fund, some of which he was spending on his waitress. If truth be known, he had had some vague aspirations towards seducing Lorna, except that she was far too young. Because she certainly had a delicious body, pale white skin, and a juicy pair of titties and springy young ass which he had noted with great interest at the time he had made the preparations for her parents' funeral and then the rearrangement of her orphaned life.
Bud Bradbury had stayed in Lansing last summer and so he and Lorna had been able to have a few dates. Lorna had been very dutiful about telling old Mrs. Clarke that she was going out with Bud and even taken the precaution of introducing the affable brown-haired youth to the housekeeper who had thoroughly approved of him. Mrs. Clarke had never suspected that inwardly Lorna was seething with curiosity and nascent sensuality for a real loving-up experience. So it had been easy for Lorna to arrange a few movie dates with her dreamboat.
On a sultry August night, after a movie, Bud had taken her to the nearby drugstore for a double chocolate soda and then, his face reddening, muttered, "Honey, my folks aren't home and they won't be for another couple of days. Darn it all, I want to kiss you good and hard. But I won't make a real pass at you, Lorna sweetie. Would you come home with me just this once?"
Lorna's heart had started to pound very fast and she had blushed scarlet and hurriedly sipped her soda to hide from him the agitated state of her emotions. There was nothing she wanted more in the world, but she realized it would be rather brazen to say as much. Finally she looked up at him and nodded, "But only for a few minutes, Bud. I do have to get home, 'cause Mrs. Clarke might get worried about my being out so late.
They had walked hand in hand down the darkened residential streets to his house, and Lorna had felt more and more wicked as she ascended the steps to the big old rambling porch and watched him fumble in his corduroy trousers pocket for the key. And then when they had gone into the lobby way, he had carefully closed the door, he'd turned to her, put his arms round her and kissed her hard on the cheek, missing her mouth in the darkness. She had just about melted, and she could feel her pussy twitching and she just wanted to die, she was so happy.
"Oh, Bud!" she had breathed, "I like you so awfully much, I really do! Kiss me again!"
He had obliged and this time found the right place. The pressure of his male lips on hers, the feel of his hands against her waist, had made her tremble with desire. She knew, of course, how babies were made and how a boy put his prick into a girl's pussy. She was scared of having a baby to be sure, but she had been so lonely living all by herself in the big old house with Mrs. Clarke that she just had to have some affection. And her guardian didn't have too much time for her and he'd told her that he was going to send her away to Northeastern where she wouldn't know a soul.
Finally Bud Bradbury broke off kissing her and took her hand and led her up the stairs to his bedroom. Her legs were like jelly as she crossed the threshold, because she hadn't ever been in a boy's bedroom before. He flicked on the light and she gasped, "Oh no, please, Bud honey, I-I feel so ashamed-"
"I've gotta look at you, baby, 'cause you're really terrific!" he had breathed.
His judgment was unerring, indeed. Lorna Yerkes, five feet two and a half inches in height, her dark brown hair coiffed in a thick long pageboy with the ends turned under, her face round and sweet and with huge, very expressive dark-blue eyes, already boasted a pair of upstanding, widely spaced, firm round titties which her tight pullover sweater molded out prick-hardeningly. Her calves were saucily rounded, her thighs were delightfully curved if a trifle short. But her bottom would have tempted a whip master, with the full, ripe, resilient hillocks thrusting out almost insolently against the tight cling of her pleated white cotton skirt. There was a broadening crease which separated those luscious nether cheeks, giving access to her temple of Sodom. And these charms, together with her pale white soft skin, made her one of the most fuckable morsels of virgin cunt on campus.
Bud took her in his arms again and his hands unerringly went to her plump bottom cheeks, which he squeezed as his mouth crushed against hers. Lorna's breath was taken away, but she instinctively wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss, standing on tiptoe to do so.
As he held her tightly up against him, she couldn't help feeling the bulge in his corduroy trousers, prodding against her tender pussy. The tingling intimations of those secret joys she had learned with her own finger began to besiege her fiercely.
They didn't go the limit that night, because Lorna's own fearful doubts about the dangers she could hazard by going all the way kept her from it. Also, Bud, who shyly confessed to her that he had only had one girl ever before, didn't have any condoms in the house at the time. But what had happened had been enough to make Lorna Yerkes dream at night here at Northeastern of the day when a strong virile boy like Bud would come along, strip her naked, fondle and kiss her, and finally open the soft pink lips of her itching pussy with his fingers and thrust his big hard ramrod as far as it would go inside of her.
He had managed to remove her sweater and unbutton her blouse despite her blushing protests. He had stuck one hand inside her bra and fondled her tittie and tweaked her hard nipple until she had almost fainted with pleasure. His other hand had gone under her skirt and petticoat and begun to tickle her plump pussy through her thin panties. It wasn't long before Lorna Yerkes was lying on the edge of the bed Bud turned on his side to her, his left hand still buried under her skirt and his right hand fondling her naked breast for he had by then unbuttoned her blouse and removed the bra completely.
When he started sucking her nipples, she had almost fainted again and piteously begged him, "Oh Bud-please-oh don't, I'm scared-I want you so, but I'm scared, I don't want any baby-oh darling, it feels so good, just t-tickle me thereoh I'll do anything for you, but I won't f-f-fuck, I'm scared!"
And so finally taking compassion of his own agony-because she could see how his prick was straining at the leash to be liberated and dig into her furry nest-Lorna Yerkes had blushingly, closing her eyes, groped for his fly tugged down the zipper taken out his cock and fondled it until suddenly he uttered a cry of agony and delight and filled her hand with his juice.
She had never tasted such paradise. His pussy tickling had made her come, and when she finally got home, her first act was to hurry to her bathroom, lock herself in, and wash out her panties completely so that old Mrs. Clarke wouldn't see them the next day and wonder why the crotch was all moist.
It was a brisk, sunny Saturday October afternoon, and Lorna Yerkes decided that she would treat herself to one of those whopper hamburgers and a double chocolate soda over at Denby's. Lots of the kids at school lived nearby and went home over the-weekend, so Denby's wasn't usually crowded on a Saturday afternoon. She pushed open the swinging doors, looked around for a booth, and espied one at the very back. She was moving towards it when suddenly a familiar male voice hailed her: "For gosh sakes-Lorna-Lorna Yerkes!
Her eyes widened, and then she turned scarlet with delight and blissful confusion. It was none other than Bud Bradbury, sitting in a booth by himself and getting up to hold out his hands to her.
"B-Bud d-darling, I-my gosh, I didn't think you were-you mean you're going to school at Northeastern?"
"Uh huh. Dad decided he and Mom were going to take a second honeymoon cruise to South America this fall, and he asked me where I'd like to go to college, so I picked here. You know why?"
"N-no," Lorna faltered, knowing it was a white lie.
"Because you're here, baby. Come one, sit down, I'll stand treat. Hey, Miss!" he snapped his fingers at a pretty young waitress passing by.
After they had had their snack, Bud informed her that he had been pledged to a fraternity but wasn't sure he was going to join. He was at a rooming house right now, about three blocks away from campus. And he wanted to know if she found anyone steady yet. Lorna shook her head, too happy to talk. She was starry-eyed. And all of a sudden she knew that if Madge Trenton made her life hell by using that damned old paddle on her behind, there was at last someone near and dear to her from whom she could get ample consolation ... because she had just made up her mind that she was going to lose her cherry as quickly as possible to Bud Bradbury.
CHAPTER SIX
Seventeen-year-old Lucy Daniels had been magnanimously given Saturday afternoon off by Trude Jordan, who had decided to hit the books and get ready for next week's classes after a furious night of girl fucking.
The lovely auburn-haired freshman was only too happy to escape the tyrannical presence of her plump blonde "Big Sister." After that awful paddling yesterday afternoon, Trude had made the sobbing girl strip stark naked, and then redo the shining of all her shoes, which had consumed a full hour before the flaxen-haired dominatress had grudgingly announced herself satisfied with the result.
Lucy had had to kneel on all fours and use a shoe-shine kit, cringing as the bespectacled junior had stood over her with that dreadful paddle at the ready. Her inflamed bare bottom had just burned terribly, and she felt utterly miserable at seeing Trude grin at her, obviously enjoying her suffering and humiliation. There had been a few playful taps of the paddle over her burning rear end during that demeaning chore, and finally Trude had ordered her to get into bed and get ready for being an obedient little slave-bitch. In fact, that was the very term Trude had used.
Then, stripping naked, carrying the paddle to bed with her, with only her glasses on, the secretary of the sorority had placed a pillow under her bottom, spread her legs and arrogantly commanded, "Now, pledge, crawl between my legs and start gamming me good and hard until I come. That'll do for a starter!"
Lucy had hastily obeyed, because the smarting pain in her behind warned her not to brook any more of Trade's wrath. From time to time, nonetheless, Trade had reached out and applied a stinging little smack with the end of the paddle over Lucy's squirming, tensing, woefully reddened posterior when she felt that the freshman wasn't showing the utmost enthusiasm for this intimate task.
She had made Lucy kiss and suck her cunt and then furl her tongue all around it and finally dig inside till she found the clitoris. Then she had made the crimson-faced (as well as crimson-bottomed) girl rub her tickler until she threshed about on the bed in the throes of come.
That hadn't been enough, however. Lucy had been ordered to lick up all the pussycream and then go bring Trade a towel soaked in warm water. She was then obliged to give her domineering mistress a sort of sponge bath. Next, she was ordered to lie atop her tormentress. And then, her left arm around Lucy's waist, her plump legs locking over Lucy's shivering naked calves, the paddle still uplifted in her right hand over her victim's shuddering, swollen seat, she had commanded in a husky voice, "All right, bitch, rub pussy now and work me up again. Remember, I've got this paddle right over your tail to warm you up if you don't get me really hot!"
It had been torture for the sensitive auburn-haired freshman to subject herself so servilely to the whims of the bespectacled, plump junior. She had wriggled back and forth, rubbing hairs against hairs, that Trude had given her a few spanks on the pretext that Lucy wasn't really putting all her soul into it. Then she had had to French kiss Trude while continuing to grind her cunt against Trade's furry, plump love-mound until finally the sadistic Lesbian achieved her second spending.
Lucy was then allowed to dress, but ordered to leave off her panties, and then go over to Denby's and bring back a couple of strip steaks, French fries, some salad, rolls and butter, and half a chocolate cream pie. What was worst of all, she was ordered to pay for it herself. Many a "Big Sister" not only physically abused the unfortunate pledge assigned to her for "indoctrination," but very often exploited her by making her run errands and standing treat. If a girl pleaded that she really couldn't afford it, the "Big Sister" would usually let her off, but not without delivering such a humiliating lecture that the poor freshman pledge felt like sinking through the floor for being so "cheap."
At least she had let Lucy share the meal with her, and then, still stark naked, had lit a cigarette and decided to finish a paperback book while digesting the meal. Poor Lucy had had to crouch on all fours, after first removing her dress and slip, so that she found herself clad in only her bra, garterbelt, hose and pumps. Trude calmly stretched out her legs, bore her heels down on the middle of Lucy's naked back and thus used the pledge as a living footstool.
It took fully half an hour before Trude at last tossed the book aside and said they would watch TV until it was time to go to bed, ordering Lucy to remove the bra.
All this time, Lucy had had to remain naked as the day she was born, but Trude found a new humiliation for her victim. Seated in a deep low armchair, she ordered the auburn-haired freshman to stretch out on her belly facing the chair, to lift up her hands and take hold of each of Trade's ankles in turn and lick and suck the junior's toes and feet. It was all Lucy Daniels could do to keep from rebelling against this odious order which plunged her into the very nadir of degradation. But Trude kept hold of the paddle and waved it meaningfully from time to time, and so Lucy realized that discretion was the better part of valor and complied.
About ten o'clock that night, Trade yawned, snapped off the television set and ordered her trembling, blushing charge to bed. But this time an even more atrocious ordeal awaited the unfortunate naked freshman. During the TV session, Trade had asked her many intimate questions, such as whether she was a virgin. Lucy had stammeringly responded that she was, so Trude had pursued the questioning to learn whether Lucy had ever necked, or done any heavy petting, or let a boy slide his hand under her skirt or inside her bra. And when Lucy had blushingly confessed that at her last year of high school she had done some petting with a boy she was then stuck on, Trude had made her stand up, straddle her legs and put her hands on her hips and face her. Then, while Lucy shivered and groaned and closed her eyes, wanting to die of sheer humiliation, the sadistic junior had inserted her left forefinger between the soft pink lips of Lucy's quim and probed as far as her finger would go. Scowling, she had growled, "You dirty little her, I don't feel any cherry!"
And Lucy had had to explain that she had done a good deal of bicycle riding back in grammar and high school and had once driven her bike into a lamppost and wedged the sharp rear part of the saddle into her pussy and broken through her virgin seal, which had actually happened when she had been thirteen.
So once the two of them were in bed together, Trude reached under a pillow and brought out a curious apparatus, the sight of which made Lucy Daniels lift her head and utter a startled cry: "Oh no-what are you going to do with that? Oh my gracious, please don't use that on me, Madame Secretary!"
It was a rubber dildo, with web straps which fitted around Trade's waist and buttocks. It was made in a color that remarkably resembled an actual male cock, complete with testicles and even artificial hair glued to the rubber testes. "Well," Trade had quipped, "since you haven't got any cherry to break, you and I might just as well start getting real cozy. Because I'll let you in on a little secret, and if you dare snitch to anybody outside the house, you can really kiss your pretty ass goodbye forever. When Hell Week rolls around, all you pledges are going to get your cherries popped, one way or another. But you won't have to go through all that nonsense, baby, because Mama is going to fuck you good and hard right now."
In spite of Lucy's tearful pleas and sobs and groans, Trude had prevailed as she always did with fearful pledges who knew that disobedience meant not only a paddling from her but very likely a summons to appear before all the sisters and a probable run-the-mill thrashing as the least of the punishments in store for such rebellion.
Closing her eyes, clenching her little fists, gritting her teeth, she had endured the penetration of that artificial prick, up to the very hilt, and it had distended the tight tender walls of her cunthole till finally, in spite of herself, she had begun to squirm and groan and suddenly felt herself gush all her love-cream down to the insistent in-andout diggings which Trude effected.
At last, enervated and sleepy, her tormentress had called it quits. And so this Saturday afternoon, Trude was languidly preparing for next week's studies and lovely Lucy was walking wistfully around campus hoping against hope that she could meet Jack Sturtevant and explain to him why she hadn't been able to go on that hike yesterday afternoon.
But the campus was deserted and so she wandered disconsolately over to Denby's, deciding to have a soda and to think things over. She had come from the little town of Plainsville, about fifty miles south of Springfield. She had lived with her widowed mother and an elderly, ailing aunt, but they had got along just fine. Her father, who had died in a plane crash when she was twelve, had been a farmer, but he had also been something of an inventor. One of his patents had finally been snapped up by a farm machinery manufacturer, and about a year after his death Lucy's mother had found herself an extremely wealthy woman. But being country-bred, she had continued to live in the old house. She had bought herself a new refrigerator, a washer and drier, and some new curtains for the house, and she had decided to send Lucy away to Northeastern to give her only daughter schooling which she herself had never been able to acquire. Lucy was very homesick, but having met Jack Sturtevant on Registration Day and finding out that he too had come from Plainsville had made her look forward to this first term of advanced education. Only she hadn't ever dreamed that the kind of advanced education she had received thus far would be from someone like Trude Jordan. She is not only ashamed, but she had also discovered that she had begun to respond to Trude's lascivious and cruel sexual tyrannies. And because she had never in her life dreamed that she could be so intimate with one of her own sex, subconsciously she was longing to meet Jack and to strike up a friendship with him which would go beyond just occasional dating. In a word, Lucy Daniels was hoping to be fucked, and not by an artificial prick, but by a real one!
There weren't too many people in Denby's, and so she decided to sit in one of the dark booths at the back, and maybe do some thinking. There wasn't any sense worrying Mom about not liking it here, because Mom had insisted she go on to school and maybe someday teach. And it was a good school. The only trouble was, she shouldn't have let herself be talked into joining the sorority. But the first thrill of getting a bid, being such an unknown in a famous college like this, had thrilled her. And Mom had told her that the fee for joining-if they did select her-was pretty reasonable and she wasn't to worry about money, because there was plenty. She rather thought that Mom was tickled pink to know that those snooty girls had chosen her from a tiny town in Southern Illinois. But Mom didn't know, wasn't ever going to know, what Trude Jordan had done to her and made her do.
"Well, here's the girl who stood me up yesterday afternoon!" a pleasant, resonant male voice broke in on her thoughts, and she glanced up to see Jack Sturtevant standing there, pretending to look angry at her with his hands on his hips and a frown on his handsome face.
Her heart did a couple of flip-flops and she turned very red as she stammered, "Oh, Jack, honest, I was just sitting here thinking how was I going to see you and tell you why I couldn't make it yesterday. It really wasn't my fault, honest it wasn't! I-I did awfully want to go with you!"
His pretended frown at once vanished, and a concerned look appeared in its stead. "Mind if I sit down, honey?"
"Oh no! I-I'd just love to have company, Jack!" she blurted, and then tears began to glisten in her lovely eyes.
Jack Sturtevant was also an only child, but his father had been born in Plainsville, been a sort of gentleman farmer because his real profession had been writing books. Philosophy books and studies on the changing sexual habits of our country. And a couple of them had been bestsellers, and so Jack Sturtevant stood to inherit a good deal of money when his father passed on. Jack himself wanted to be a writer, and Northeastern had a very good journalism school.
"Hey now, Lucy, what's the matter? It's not all that serious!" He leaned across the table and smiled encouragingly at her. "I figured something came up, maybe you had to see your counsellor or change classes or something."
"Oh no! I only wish it were something like that, Jack! I-I was so miserable, and I'm so glad I saw you right now-you don't know how good it makes me feel." Her tears were coming fast now, and she hated herself for them, but she just couldn't stop. She covered her face with her hands, and in a second he had moved round to sit beside her, to put an arm around her waist and to tilt up her trembling chin with his other hand: "What's all this about, Lucy? You can tell me, I'm your friend."
"I-I just don't dare, Jack. But it's so nice to hear you say that. I hope you'll always be that," Lucy said, staring intently at him and somehow feeling the beginning of a thrill at the sensation of his strong young arm around her supple waist.
"Maybe you're just homesick," he said cheerfully.
"Yes, I guess it's partly that. But-oh, I shouldn't bother you with my troubles, Jack. It's just so nice to find you here, because we're both from the same town and all that. And I just can't figure it out that all these years back in Plainsville, we never saw each other or never knew about each other."
"Well, I guess that's the way it goes sometimes. You know, Lucy, I read someplace, I guess maybe it was in that fairy-tale book, The Blue Bird, by Maeterlinck, how this little kid finds the blue bird of happiness right in his own back yard after he's gone all around the world looking for it. Maybe that's like us."
Lucy Daniels looked closely at Jack Sturtevant. Already she was finding in him a most sympathetic listener, one who was basically honest and who, she felt certain now, could be confided in. "It's funny, because I feel the same way too," she confessed. "And you know something, Jack? I'm not scared any more of being so far away from home, not with you here."
"That's real nice of you to say, Lucy honey." He reached out and took her hands in his and smiled at her. She felt the most delicious tingling between her legs, it was the more amazing she should feel anything after all the disgusting, forced sex Trude Jordan had forced her to have all yesterday afternoon and last night. And she knew for a certainty that she was going to give him pussy and anything else he wanted, and as soon as possible!
"I was wondering," he began, "whether you're doing anything tonight, Lucy?"
"I-I don't think so. That is-" she blushed and tried to recover, "you see, Jack, I'm a pledge at Delta Gamma Phi and I have a Big Sister. She makes me run errands and stuff like that, but she did give me this afternoon off. She didn't say any thing about tonight, though."
"Saturday night ought to be free time for anybody," Jack Sturtevant chuckled. "I don't know about being in a frat myself, because I'd much rather just feel things out around here my first year and hit the books and make Mom happy with good grades. She's paying my tuition, and I owe her that much."
Looking at him, listening to him, Lucy was struck by his sincerity and decency. This was exactly the sort of boy she needed to take away the taste of Trude Jordan ... a literal taste indeed! "I'd like to have a date with you tonight, Jack," she found herself saying.
"Well, I've got a room over at Bowler Avenue, and so I don't have to report at any curfew, the way they have at a frat house. Do you have one too where you are, Lucy?"
His mention of a room made the tingling sensation in her pussy increase. She shook her head. "I don't know, but I don't care. What would you like to do tonight?"
"I'd like to take you out to a nice dinner somewhere, and see if we can find a show around here, and then just talk about old times." He squeezed her hands in his. And Lucy Daniels knew that there was going to be more than talk about old times at the end of their date tonight!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lucy Daniels was quivering with excitement. It had been the most heavenly evening she'd ever experienced. Jack Sturtevant had had his own car, a Dodge Dart, a reward from his mother for having been valedictorian in high school back in Plainsville, and he'd picked her up at the sorority house at five-thirty and taken her down the state highway to Moultrie, a prosperous little farming town of about five thousand people, but with an exceptionally good home-cooking restaurant and a surprisingly up-to-date movie theater.
Lucy had been a little worried when she'd gone back to the house that perhaps her "Big Sister" might command her to stay in tonight, but Trude had been exceptionally generous. Of course, Lucy had had to ask her permission, and Trude had just grinned and said, "So you're a switch hitter, are you, baby? Okay, go along and have your fun. Tomorrow's Sunday, so I don't mind how late you come back. Only one thing-you have to tell Mama all about it tomorrow, you hear?" And of course Lucy had had to agree and she couldn't help blushing when she did so as Trude's glittering eyes seemed to look her up and down and strip her naked.
She wasn't exactly sure what being a switch hitter meant, except that probably it was something dirty, because that's the way Trude Jordan was. And she was afraid of the plump junior. That was why it was heaven to go out with a nice boy like Jack and have home-cooked fried chicken and great big ears of golden bantam corn dripping with butter, and a real strawberry pie and good strong coffee. The movie was "Chisholm," with big John Wayne, who was so rugged and manly, and she always did like Westerns. Besides, with Jack holding her hand and her thigh occasionally brushing his-though it was innocent and by accident and not on purpose on her part-she felt as if she had never left Plainsville.
Over dinner, they had laughed a good deal about the fact that she had been in some of his classes and not really noticed him or, if she had, not really thought about him at all except as just part of the classroom scenery. And knowing him to be so handsome, she blurted, "My goodness, Jack, I imagine all the girls there were just crazy about you." But he had just shaken his head and chuckled and said, "Maybe so, but I didn't really notice. You see, I know it sounds sappy, but because Dad's gone and Mom looks up to me as the man of the family, I was concentrating on doing good in school to please her."
It was really refreshing, no matter how old-fashioned it was, to hear a good-looking boy like this one say something like that, Lucy felt. And so in the few short hours of their date, she already was closer to him in spirit than she could ever be with somebody like Trude Jordan. And that was probably why, after the movie, when he looked at her and said, "Want to go for a drive?" she suddenly found herself brazenly saying, "Jack honey, could we-I mean, would your landlady object if I came up to your room so we could talk about things and stuff like that?"
He'd looked at her with a smile, and then flushed a little and said in a very husky voice, "She happens to be out of town, so the point won't even come up. I'd like that too, Lucy baby."
She was sitting on the couch, admiring the nice neat way he kept his room, and the small bookcase and the radio over by the little night table beside the bed. It was a comfortable old couch, and it didn't creak. She felt relaxed and good and happy, the first time she really felt that way since she left Plainsville. He was sitting beside her, and they had been talking about what they were gonna do in later years when they finished college. And then all of a sudden he turned to her and said, "I guess Mom really wants me to take over the farm. It's not an exciting life, but it's secure. People always need food, even if there is a depression, you know. I like to write, the way Dad did, though I'll never be as good as he was."
"You shouldn't say that, it's much too early, Jack," she defended him.
"You're awfully sweet, Lucy. I've got a little secret to tell you."
"Oh?"
"Uh huh. You know, maybe you didn't notice me in school back there, but I sure noticed you. You were the prettiest girl in the class. Only I figured you had so many boyfriends there wasn't any use getting in line."
She blushed adorably and lowered her eyes. She had put on her prettiest outfit tonight, and even Trude Jordan had had some malicious flattery for her, flattery with cruel, underlying malice: "You know, pledge, you can tell a book by its covers, and you sure got a pretty one. But the real way to hook a guy is to take off the cover. Only maybe you'll find you like the DC way better than the AC."
She was thinking about that now as she twisted her fingers in her lap and looked down at the floor. Did Trude mean that because of what the junior had made her do yesterday, she was hooked on going to bed and loving up a girl instead of a boy? Well, she told herself, tonight she was going to find out for sure. She wore a tight-fitting yellow rayon print dress, and she had put on her sheerest pair of smoke-colored stockings, hooking them up with the tabs of a pink satin-elastic garterbelt around her supple waist. She had combed and fluffed up her pageboy, and it shimmered under the light from the ceiling, deepening the luster as well as playing up her wonderfully soft complexion of pale white with rosy flecks. Her face was quite sensitive, with cheekbones slantingly set, her nose daintily uptilted with very thin, widely flaring wings. She had a full sweet mouth, the lower lip somewhat riper than its soft mate and quite tremulous (this was something which had given Trude Jordan the hots for the freshman pledge). Her eyes were quite well set apart, quite large and a soft hazel, with tiny green flecks at the iris, and surmounted by thin, pencilled brows. Altogether, Lucy Daniels was intensely appetizing. Slightly on the tall side, with lovely long legs, a slim waist, and the ample oval-shaped bottom which had so appealed to Trude Jordan's sadistic instincts, she had a rather small pair of titties, but they were just as appetizing in their own way as the rest of her: firm, widely spaced round globes with adorably narrow aurolae and crinkly nipples.
"You're just saying that," she giggled, very self-consciously aware of her deepening blushes.
"No, it's true," Jack Sturtevant protested, moving closer to her on the couch, his left arm slipping around her waist. "And you know how a small town is, too, Lucy. How everybody talks about everybody else. If I'd wanted to talk to you or anything like that, it'd be all over town. And like I said, Mom was sort of worked up about me doing well so I could go on to Northeastern with good grades."
She had begun to shiver at the feel of his arm around her waist, and she was surprised that she had just about forgotten all the nasty things Trude had made her do. Her bottom was still very tender from the paddling, and it made her squirm a little, and she hoped he wouldn't think she was being too sexy or over anxious. But she was just hoping that he would kiss her very quickly so she would find out just how she really felt about him. So far, it was just the sympathy between them, the fact that he was from the same home town, and maybe that was partly due to homesickness and also how miserable she felt because of what Trude had done to her. She had to know if it was really Jack she wanted to fuck her, not just any boy. And so far the answer was a resounding yes!
And then suddenly, without warning, he put his right hand to her soft little dimpled chin and bent to her and kissed her good and hard. She gasped, taken by surprise, and she didn't resist at all. It was just wonderful! His mouth was firm and warm and it was a good honest boy-kiss, not the nasty kind Trude had made her learn. Oh no, she didn't want to be a switch hitter, if that was what Trude had meant, the kind of girl who could be screwed by either boy or girl and get just as much fun out of one as the other!
Her arms went round his neck, and she gave him back his kiss with interest. She heard him moan a little, and his arm tightened round her and then his right hand slipped down and the next thing she knew, his palm was pressing hard against one of her titties. And the miracle of miracles, she could feel her nipple stiffening and the tingling sensation between her tensing thighs grow itchier and itchier.
"You're awfully sweet, Lucy Daniels," Did anybody ever tell you that?" he said thickly as he finally took his mouth away and stared into her humid, dilated eyes.
"No, Jack," she murmured faintly. She looked at him with a kind of desperate yearning. She hoped he could read her thought waves and yet not think her a cheap little round-heeled tramp. She wanted to be fucked so bad she could taste it. She wanted him to take off all her clothes and play with her titties and pussy and her bottom, and finally make her thighs feel like jelly as he tickled them and then gripped them and pulled them open so he could stick his big thing into her soft squirmy cunt. She had learned some of those words in school, when some of the older girls used to gather around at lunchtime recess and talk about their boyfriends and how they had made out in the back of a parked car near Sanders Creek way up in the hills where couples used to go for heavy necking.
At the back of her mind, there was a tiny little worry about how expert he was in getting to her so quickly, which might mean that he screwed a lot of girls and was just a chaser. But her mind wasn't really listening. Her flesh was.
"You're so good for me, Jack," she breathed, tightening her hold around his neck and rubbing noses with him while her cheeks flamed with an adorable blush. "And am I ever glad my Big Sister said I could go out tonight."
He let go of her for a moment and stared earnestly at her. "You sound as if you've been having a helluva time, Lucy honey. Want to tell me about it?"
"I-I really shouldn't. I mean, a pledge is on her honor not to blab about what goes on in the house."
"Did they initiate you yet?"
"No, that-that comes during Hell Week and that's not until about the third week of October.
"I get the feeling you've already been sort of initiated, if you know what I mean," he frowned.
Again she looked down at her lap and she knew that her cheeks and earlobes and temples were flaming. "Sort of," she hesitantly admitted.
"That's rough! I know that girls could be mean to one another, meaner than boys, lots of times," he sympathized. Then again his arm was around her waist, his hand was tilting up her chin and his mouth was crushing hers very hotly. She moaned a little and moved closer to him, wanting him to understand that she was all his. And she wanted to tell him about Trude, too, except she was a little scared. What if he thought she was-well, a queer. Maybe he wouldn't want to love her up, then. But she had to find out.
"It's sort of like being a slave, in a way, Jack," she said in a low, shaky voice as she stroked his cheek with her right hand and kept her left arm round his neck. "And a pledge can't say anything to the other girls or go talk to the Dean or anything like that, or they'd blackball you for good. And they'd all have a meeting and paddle me awfully hard before they kicked me out of the house."
"It really sounds rough, honey. I don't guess I'll be in any hurry to sign up with any frat. I like being by myself this way, anyhow. Especially right now. You know what I mean, Lucy?"
He tilted up her chin and stared into her eyes. She blushed hotly and nodded and said faintly, "Why-yes. I'm so glad you feel that way about me. I-I like you an awful lot, Jack. I mean it."
His answer was wonderfully satisfactory so far as she was concerned. His left arm seemed to slip down around her hips, and then his right hand was back up against her tittie, and his mouth covered hers and seemed to deliver a sucking kind of wet, eager kiss. She was trembling, and the flesh of her inner thighs was twitching frantically. And then she found her lips opening under his and her own little tongue sticking out very naughtily. She felt his tongue with hers, and she felt him stiffen a little and heard him gasp. And then his hand was squeezing her tittie until her nipple was aching from the sweet pain of it, and there was a fire between her legs that had to be put out before much longer.
"I want to have you, Lucy," he stammered hoarsely. "I just have to. I won't get you into any trouble, so don't worry-you're so sweet, you've got such a gorgeous figure, and you're such a darned nice girl!"
"I-I want you to have me, Jack," she whispered. She was almost ready to faint, the sensations in her body were so many and so varied. She was getting a little dizzy from all this cuddling, and she wanted to taste every blessed minute of it and lose absolutely nothing of it.
"You sweet darling!" he panted. "You won't be sorry, I'm really crazy about you, honey!" And then his right hand was slipping under her skirt and petticoat, because the weather was still too warm to wear a full slip, and she felt his fingers brush her upper bare thigh and touch the hems of her panties and the tickling sensation in her pussy became almost unbearable.
"You-you better let me take off my d-dress, darling," she heard herself whispering. She didn't know how she could be so shameless and yet at the same time be so happy. It hadn't been that way at all with Trude. She didn't want to tell him, but she knew she was going to have to. She just had to tell someone she could trust because after what had happened last night, she might be a slave all semester long. And then there was Hell Week coming up.
"S-Sure, baby." He let her go and she rose, her legs unsteady, reached down and pulled up her dress and drew it off and put it over the back of the couch, then unfastened the waistband of the petticoat. His eyes devoured her in bra, panties, garter belt and hose and pumps. Under his scrutiny, she felt herself blushing all the way down to her titties. She stood there with her arms at her sides offering herself to him in this lovely before-bed inspection, and all she hoped was that she was going to pass!
He walked quickly over to the window and pulled down the shade, then took off his suit coat, pulled off his tie and shirt. He was rangy, and strong, and he wasn't hairy. And her heart began to beat faster, she could see the bulge in his trousers and knew that it was meant for her. Suddenly, irrationally, she almost giggled; she was thinking how lucky it was that she'd had that bike accident and lost her cherry, because now there wouldn't be any blood or pain or anything like that, and it'd be so nice for both of them, and she wanted it to be so very much.
Now he was down to his shorts and socks, and the bulge was even more prominent than ever. He came to her, with a sort of self-conscious grin, and she realized that a boy could be just as scared the first time with a girl as vice versa. And it gave her a greater confidence in that knowledge. She held out her arms to him, and she felt his hands reach round her and unhook the straps of the bra and then she felt it fluttering down onto the floor and her naked firm small titties were prodding against his chest as he hugged her to him, his hands going down to squeeze her bottom through the panties. Her mouth mashed to his, and again her tongue drove eagerly into his mouth. She felt her pussy rub against the hard, unyielding structure of his prick, and the fluttering, tingling, humid sensation inside her quim was just about driving her crazy.
"You're gorgeous, Lucy baby, you're just too much," he panted. Both his hands squeezing her bottom, he bent his head and put his lips to one of her nipples and began to suck and lick and kiss it. She caught the back of his head with both hands, her own head tilting back and her eyes closing, and she began to shiver violently. "Oh, Jack, oh that's so good, so sweet, oh, keep on doing it, honey!" She had heard her voice as from far away. Her thighs were going to give way, they were shaking so, and the itching between them was just too much. He was going to have to do something about it fast!
"I want to see the rest of you, baby," he said hoarsely as he took his mouth away from her nipple, leaving it glistening with his saliva, hard and dark and pointing in tumescence. She could only stare at him yearningly, he dropped down to his knees and began to slide her panties down slowly, very slowly, leaving them at her knees. And then with a kind of muffled gasp, his fingers were digging into her bottom till it really hurt and she winced and gasped out, "Ouch, darling!" And then she squirmed frantically, because he had just put his mouth against her bush and she could feel his lips against the lips of her cunt and it was just seventh heaven. She felt herself churning inside, as if everything were fermenting and being drawn to the surface.
Now his tongue drove between the lips of her quim, brushed the button of her clitoris, and she moaned and then sobbed, twisting her fingers in his hair, rumpling it, her body jerking fitfully. At last he rose, and tugged off his shorts, and she saw the long, broadly thick shaft of his cock with the dark veins standing out as if ready to burst through the tight skin, and the plum-shaped head of his organ with the lips puckering to tell her that he was holding back his load until he could get himself inside of her to the very hilt.
He walked over to the night table beside the bed, opened the drawer and took out a box of safes, fitted one on while she stared, intrigued and also a little amused. But the hot itching sensation in her pussy grew when he turned back to her, and she could read his desire for her in his flushed face, the glowing eyes, the swelling chest and his bobbing prick.
She kicked off her pumps and in just garter belt and stockings moved to the bed. "Hey-your bottom, Lucy!" He said in a hoarse, trembling voice, pointing. She stopped, glanced back and down at herself over her shoulder. "What do you mean, Jack honey?"
"Boy, that Big Sister of yours really put you through the mill! It's still a little red, all over," he told her.
"Ohh! I-I-she-she did p-p-paddle me a little yesterday, does it still show?"
"You bet it does! Why, that bitch, whoever she is, to treat a gorgeous sweet girl like you that way!" His voice was angry as he came to her, took her by the shoulders and turned her so that he could stare at her bottom. Lucy Daniels quivered violently, and she felt that she was blushing all over and not just from that paddling. She felt one of his hands stroke her behind, and she leaned her head back against his chest and whimpered a little, "Oh lover, oh that's nice, it doesn't hurt, not really!"
"Why did she do that to you?"
"Because-because I didn't shine her shoes the way she wanted me to."
"That's not a funny joke, Lucy honey."
"I mean it. A pledge has to do things for her Big Sister. If she doesn't, she gets paddled, that's what."
"Did you have to do her shoes over again after she spanked you, Lucy?"
"Uh huh."
"I wish I could get my hands on her, I'd take a paddle to her tail in a way she wouldn't forget in a hurry," he said angrily. Lucy Daniels thrilled at this. She could just die now, she felt so happy to have found him. And it was sort of exciting, to have him feel so concerned about her spanked bottom. If he'd spanked her, she wouldn't have minded at all. She had never felt so naughty, and yet so eager to be naughty!
Now he turned her round to face him, and his hands grasped the cheeks of her behind and pulled her up against him till the white-sheathed ridged ramrod of his prick was pressing right into the furry nest of her cunthole. She put her arms around him and strained herself against him, her naked titties mashing against his chest, till he could feel the hard points scraping his flesh. Their lips met and this time his tongue boldly entered between hers, and she felt an electrifying shiver run all the way through her.
"What else did she do to you, Lucy honey?" he demanded, his voice thick and shuddering.
"I-I don't want to tell you, honest I don't. Youyou won't like me if I do," she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his chest.
"I'll spank you if you don't, I mean it, Lucy Daniels! Now you tell me!"
The delicious, deeply hidden masochistic impulse made her shake her head and murmur, "No I won't."
"All right, you asked for it!" he panted. He lifted her up in his arms, carried her over to the wide double bed, sat on the edge and then reversed her over his lap.
"Jack Sturtevant, you stop that!" She was half laughing, half crying, so churningly wrought up inside that she wanted half to giggle, half to cry. And she could feel his stiff ramrod pressed off to an angle and prodding her bare belly as he put his left arm around her waist and gave her a good hard spank on her right bottom cheek. "Stop it, that's not nice!" she protested.
"You're going to tell me, or I'll really spank you hard, Lucy honey! I can see why this Big Sister of yours wanted to use the paddle, you've got such a sweet, gorgeous tail on you!" His hand came down again, this time on the other cheek, and even harder.
"Oww! Stop it, that hurts, I tell you!"
"It's going to hurt a lot worse if you don't tell me what I want to know. I mean it, Lucy!" This time, his hand descended three times, each time flattening against the base of her right bottom globe.
"Please-oww-eeeowww! I'll be good, oh please stop!"
"Well?" he menaced, keeping his right hand up in the air ready to attack her reddening, jouncy bottom.
"She-she made me I-I-love her up, Jack. I didn't want to, but I had to, she-she paddled me so awfully hard," Lucy Daniels began to sniffle. She covered her blushing face with her hands and abandoned herself over his lap.
"You mean in bed, like now?" he pursued.
"Uh huh. But I said I didn't want to. That's why I didn't want to tell you, I thought you'd think I was a t-t-tramp and wouldn't want to have me," she whimpered.
"You adorable little sap!" He laughed with relief. "I've got a pretty good idea what goes on at sorority houses, Lucy. Your Big Sister is just a dirty little dyke who loves to be spiteful and to make people dance to her orders. Don't you worry, I'll find a way of paying her back for what she did to you. Now I'll show you what it's like to have some real loving. Want me to?"
"Oh yes, darling, oh do it to me now, I need it so after that!" she panted.
He rolled her off his lap, then clambered onto the bed and fell upon her. Lucy Daniels uttered a sobbing little cry of delight. Her thighs straddled hugely to admit him. She reached for him with her arms and flung them round him, and their lips met and his tongue drove back and forth inside her mouth. She could feel his prick head prodding away to try to enter, and she arched her loins up to help him. She felt him slip in and pierce her, as she cried out in her delight and his kiss silenced her.
Now, his left hand on her right tittie, his right hand under her left bottom cheek, he thrust himself forcibly into her tight sheath. Oh it was so good, it was ever so much better than what Trude had done to her and what she'd had to do to Trude! She didn't want to ever do that to Trude again, not ever, not even if Trude paddled her to death!
But all she could think of now was the thousand and one lovely sensations that were invading her. She clutched her stockinged legs over his thighs to clamp him to her, and then her hips began to swerve and jerk back and forth as she commenced the cadence of their fucking.
His mouth came down on the other nipple, and began to suck and kiss it. She whimpered and groaned, almost dying with the ecstasy of all this. He was inside her to the hairs, grinding into her, and she could feel the walls of her cunt twitch and grasp his invading shaft. She wanted to belong to him so much, she wanted him to have everything. This was so thrilling, so wonderful, and it helped drive away all the nightmares about Trude Jordan.
He drew himself back slowly, his hands tightening on tittie and bottom cheek, and his lips returned to suck her hardening nipple bud. Her hands began to rumple his hair again, and her hips began to arch and squirm and twist to follow his diggings. "Oh darling-oh it's so good-oh please do me good, make me forget all about Trude," she gasped.
"Trude? Oh yeah, your Big Sister. You wait, Lucy, you and I are going to think of something to pay her back. I mean it."
"Oh if you only could," she heard herself panting. And then passion took over and her pussy demanded all the attention in the world. "Oh don't talk anymore, just give it to me, give it to me good and hard, do everything to me now, I need it so!"
His answer was to slip both hands under her bottom cheeks, to sink his fingers deeply into the jouncy globes, and then he began to fuck her with long slow delvings which drove to the very bottom of her love-chasm and stirred all the hidden emotions of her being until she could feel the volcano-like rumblings of upheaval in the very bottom of her cunt.
Her legs had shifted over his bottom now, and she was crushing herself up against him, her titties flattening against his chest. Her tongue was digging back and forth inside his mouth to imitate his own digging inside of her cunt. It hurt her bottom where his sinewy fingers dug into the tender, paddled flesh, but it hurt wonderfully. She didn't want it ever to stop. Her breath was beginning to come quickly, and her body was shuddering turbulently as slowly, inexorably, she felt the churning, seething tides in her quim surge to the surface. And then a sobbing cry escaped her as she began to buck and jerk and twist, trying to drain him of his essence, trying to feel the hot sting of his jism lash the walls of her greedy, straining, passionate young cunt.
She felt him slip a finger up against her bumhole, throb the dainty, puckering, crinkly lips and then enter. She shouted aloud at her ecstasy, "Oh yes, oh that's good, oh give it to me, fuck me, screw me, oh Jack darling, I need it so, oh Jack, now, give it to me good!"
She hardly knew what she was saying, her body was all cunt now, as his tool began to accelerate its pace. The few hard spanks he had given her naked seat had rekindled all the fire of yesterday's paddling. And that fire together with what was burning her up inside her cunt made her almost ungovernable.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Besides Elaine Horton, Lucy Daniels, and Lorna Yerkes, three other freshmen had been pledged by Delta Gramma Phi. Each of them was as different as night from day, and all three of them were to figure prominently in the scandal which would rock Northeastern College within a few short weeks.
One was Dorothy Purcell, a seventeen-year-old, light-brown-haired Chicago girl whose rather plain face and dowdy hairdo did not entirely draw attention away from her stunningly desirable body. She was quiet, soft spoken, but inwardly she was feverishly eager to find at last an outlet for the tormenting passions which seethed in her psyche.
Dorothy Purcell's father had been a highly successful franchised dealer for one of the major automobile companies. From her mother, as reticent and unassuming as herself and also with a similar bodily beauty which had undoubtedly attracted her father's interest (especially when he had discovered she wouldn't fuck without a wedding ring), Dorothy had inherited physical allure and a masochistic temperament.
David Purcell had done a great deal of whoring in his bachelor days, and he had married Dorothy's mother because the contrast between her plain face and her prick-hardening big round titties and undulating asscheeks and soft warm creamy skin had been a challenge to him. When she skillfully if passively resisted all his attempts to get her into bed, he had married her. But then he had discovered that, though she yielded willingly enough, she had absolutely no enthusiasm for the many variations of fucking, and that she indignantly refused either to put her hand on his prick or to suck it, pleasures which of course loose women had always been willing to give him. As a consequence, he took out his frustration in being cruel to her, both mentally and physically. Especially when he came home drunk, he would seek out his saintly-haired wife, accuse her of flirting with other men (which of course was unthinkable to her) and then, infuriated by watching her weep silently and not try to defend herself, finally wind up by ripping off her clothes, pulling her across his lap, clamping his right leg over her calves, and spanking her naked bottom till she nearly fainted. Then he would lift her up in his arms, carry her off to bed, fling her down on it and mount her and fuck her savagely. Needless to say, such wooing did not waken her responses, which only antagonized and frustrated him the more.
But Dorothy, at the age of fifteen, had happened to come home early from school because she was coming down with a mild virus, and it had been her father's day off. She had heard the sound of muffled weeping in her mother's bedroom, and had stopped to listen. She had heard her father's voice angrily accusing her mother of infidelity, and then finally the sound of several slaps. Then her mother had began to cry and to sob out that all these accusations were unjust, that he knew perfectly well she'd never dream of looking at another man, begging him to be kind and just to her and not to humiliate her so.
And then she had heard her father snarl, "Goddamn it, Mavis, I just can't light a fire under you, can I? Well maybe if I burn your big juicy ass with my belt, I'll get you to take my prick in your mouth!" And her mother had replied through sobs and groans, "I'd rather die before I'd do a filthy thing like that, David Purcell, and you know it! Why don't you go to some slut if you want that sort of thing? I'm a decent woman, you knew that when you married me!"
Horrified by what she heard, Dorothy Purcell had quietly tiptoed down the hall, unable to believe that usually good-natured father could possibly talk and act so brutally to her sweet mother. He had left the door slightly open, and so Dorothy Purcell was the unsuspecting witness to a scene that was to haunt her and to rouse in her perhaps the very passions which were anathema to her prudish mother. She saw her father advance towards the cowering buxom woman, rip off her dress and slip, slap her face and then, twisting his fingers in her disheveled long hair, drag her over to the bed on which he seated himself. Even as she pleaded with him not to do this shameful, cruel thing to her, David Purcell gloatingly forced the unfortunate woman across his lap, clamped his left arm around her waist and began to tear away her pantie-girdle, regardless of the fact that in so doing he was ripping the tabs away from her nylon hose.
Dorothy Purcell stared as one hypnotized at her mother's pink-satiny ripely rounded bottom cheeks, flinching and tightening in an instinctive attempt to minimize their all too vulnerable dimensions. Then her father's right hand had ascended, and fallen with an angry obscenely noisy Smack. She had heard her mother cry out, "Oh please, David, please, you hurt me so! Oh this is dreadful to treat a grown woman this way!" and she saw the bright red splotch outlining her father's hand on her mother's naked seat.
His lust had mounted as he spanked his wife. So, too, did his anger at her meek submission. But it was not a submission that announced that she was willing to surrender to his lustful needs, and that was really what made him furious with her. He spanked her until she lay panting and sobbing, her big buttocks flaming and swollen, and then he slyly slipped his left hand between their bodies and began to frig her pussy with his left forefinger while he caressed the shuddering, angrily reddened hillocks of her naked ass with his right palm.
Dorothy Purcell began to feel a curious twitching sensation in her pussy, as she stood there, her mouth gaping, her eyes unwaveringly fixed on the bed. Her father had his back to her, and her mother's eyes were so blinded by tears and her head turned away that neither of them was aware of her presence.
As he continued frigging her and stroking her bottom, Dorothy heard her mother whimper, "Ohhh ... PI-please, D-David, don't be so d-disgusting-you know I don't like to have you treat me like a p-p-prostitute."
That pitifully naive appeal had been the last straw for David Purcell. With a growl of fury, he had rolled her over onto her back, stood up, yanked down the zipper of his trousers to expose his bludgeoning prick. Dorothy Purcell had never seen a man's organ before, and she nearly fainted as she watched him clamber onto the bed, dig his fingers into her mother's swelling big round titties, and then force that huge, turgid, angrily reddened thing against the dark brown curls which hid her mother's cunt. Mavis Purcell tried to push him away, weeping bitterly, but he was far too strong for her. With a grunt of satisfaction, he burrowed himself deep inside of her and then gloatingly announced, "I'm going to fuck you and frig you until I make you come this time, Mavis, because all you've ever been since I married you is a dead log in bed. You've got a shape on you that would make a stone statue get a hard-on, but so far I've got more satisfaction out of my own hand than I have out of your cunt!"
Then, slipping his left hand under her bottom, he had apparently introduced his forefinger into her asshole, for Dorothy Purcell had heard her mother cry out, "Oh no! You filthy, degenerate animal, you, take your finger out of there this minute-if you-if you-if you have to h-have me, at least be d-decent about it and save those filthy things for the women you pay to go to bed with you!"
"Yes, I do have call girls when I feel the urge, Mavis," he had snarled. "And do you know why? It's because you're a cold fish in bed. The way you held out to get married, I thought I was really getting a red-hot pussy with that shape of yours. It's an ice-box, you understand? But I'm going to warm it up once and for all!"
And then he had begun to fuck Dorothy's mother, while probing his finger up to the hilt inside her bumhole. And then finally Dorothy had watched him slip his other forefinger into her mother's pussy and explore for the clitoris which he had begun to rub.
And then to her horrified astonishment, she had finally seen her mother come to life. Mavis Purcell had lifted her contorted face, her eyes staring and glassy, and then she had clawed at the rumpled sheet with her fingernails, turned her face back and forth, and begun to whimper, while her naked hips had squirmed, arched and flattened back on the bed.
"At last I'm getting to you, huh, you prick-teasing bitch!" her father had panted. He was working both fingers now and humping her for all he was worth, and at last he succeeded. Mavis Purcell suddenly moaned, then convulsively locked her arms around him, closed her eyes, and her body shook with the fury of a real spend. At about that moment, David Purcell, with a last digging thrust inside her quaking cunthole, released his spunk.
Dorothy Purcell had tiptoed back to her room, undressed and got into bed. About an hour later, her mother, worried over her daughter's non-return from school, had come into her room and found her there. She had comforted the girl, called the doctor, and a few days later Dorothy was as well as ever-physically. But the indelible, burning memory of what she had seen and heard would linger with her always.
Two weeks later, when her mother was out of town visiting an ailing family friend, Dorothy provoked her father into giving her her very first spanking. He had suggested that they go out for dinner instead of having their part-time housekeeper cook, and then take in a movie. Dorothy had shrugged and insolently retorted, "I don't feel like going out, Dad. I'll stay home with my books, if it's all the same to you."
He was startled because until then his daughter had been as listlessly colorless as her mother. "You'll do as I say that's what you'll do," he had growled. "You're doing fine in your classes, so what's all this nonsense about hitting the books? I don't want to eat by myself and there's a good movie I want to see."
"Then why don't you call one of your girlfriends and have her go with you, Dad?" Dorothy Purcell had answered.
He had stared at her for a moment, and then his face had turned red and then he had exploded, "Why, you uppity little bitch! Who the hell gave you an idea like that? I'm going to teach you a little lesson, Dorothy!"
He had seized her by the wrist and led her upstairs to her room. She had tried to struggle, purposely, so as to incite him to give her a real spank ing. Because what she had seen had inflamed her masochistic nature, not to be fucked, but rather to be spanked, to feel a man's hand descending on her naked flesh until she couldn't stand it anymore and then had to stand it ... till the swooning ecstasy of pain merged into an ineffable joy that consoled her for the anguish.
She got exactly what she had bargained for. He had flung her down across his lap as he sat on the edge of her bed, hoisted up her skirt and petticoat, and then begun to spank her over her panties. But Dorothy Pucell wanted more than that. She had looked back, even though she winced and gasped out at the way his hard hand was smacking her plump bottom, and she had taunted him: "Is that all the harder you can hit, Dad? You'll wear your hand out and I don't feel a thing!"
"Don't you? Let's try this way then," he had angrily retorted. Yanking down her panties, he began to spank her again. Dorothy Purcell closed her eyes and shivered. She ground her teeth together so as not to cry out and end the spanking too soon. But her very stoicism, which of course he misunderstood, led him to redouble his vigor. Her bottom flattened, bounded and squirmed as his heavy hand flailed down, with hardly a pause between spanks. After about fifty when her naked ass was an angry red, he panted, "Had enough?"
"N-no, and you're just wearing yourself out for nothing," she had gasped.
His face had twisted in fury, he had fumbled with his belt, tugged it out, doubled it and then she felt it whistle down and smack over the ripest curves of her bottom summits. It had drawn a shrill cry, and he had chuckled sadistically, "That's a little different, eh? Tell me when you've had enough, you stubborn, insolent little slut!"
The belt had come down twenty times before at last Dorothy Purcell groaned aloud, "Ohh-ahhh-oh please D-Dad, please not any-not any more-I'll be good, I-I'll go with you tonight!"
"All right. Now get into the bathroom and put some cold water on that burned-up backside of yours! What's got into you, anyway? You've never talked back to me like that before. And another thing, Dorothy, if you ever again mention anything about call girls or other women, I'll really give you a belting, understand?"
As she slipped off his lap, her hands rubbing her throbbingly naked bottom, she nodded, and stumbled away. He had felt disgusted with himself for having been so brutal. But he hadn't known that she'd quickly turned away to hide the fact from him that her pussyhairs were moist with her own sticky love-cream. Because, when he'd started belting her, she'd had a real hot spend.
And that was why Dorothy Purcell was in seventh heaven when she got the invitation from the swankiest sorority on campus. Because she'd heard rumours that there was hazing, even paddling. And she was just hoping that she'd be assigned to a "Big Sister" who'd want to tan her hide whenever the mood seized her.
She was lucky. The girl she drew none other than Brenda Torrance, treasurer of the sorority, a twenty-one-year-old silver blonde who came from a patrician family in the East, had a fake British accent, and was a sadistic Lesbian of the first order. She had thought Dorothy rather plain-featured, and she had rolled her eyes heavenward when she had seen what mousy hair the pledge had. But one look at Dorothy Purcell's ripe, proud, surging titties and the shifting, upstandingly rounded lush cheeks of Dorothy's ass and the full womanly thighs and beautifully rounded calves had given her the hots. She could hardly wait to get her hands on that little bitch and make her bend over for swats. Besides, she had a little leather case in her closet which contained a whippy cane and a taws, instruments she had purchased in a New York leather goods shop which catered to the sadomasochistic trade.
On this Saturday afternoon when Lucy Daniels was finding compensation for the dyke cruelty inflicted on her by sadistic Trude Jordan, Dorothy Purcell was about to cross the threshold to a new and exquisitely bittersweet world of sexual submission.
Until now, Dorothy had enchanted her "Big Sister," eagerly running every errand which Brenda Torrance assigned her, industriously keeping Brenda's room spick and span and doing many little things unbidden which Brenda had not even considered demanding of the pledge. On this particular afternoon, Dorothy Purcell had come to Brenda's room after lunch to inquire if there was anything she could do for her "Big Sister," and Brenda had shrugged, and disdainfully replied, "I can't think of anything, Purcell. You've done a pretty good job, I'll give you that. Take the afternoon off, if you want. I suppose you've got a boyfriend?"
"No, Madame Treasurer."
"I see. Well, you'll find something to do. Go over to the library and catch up on your studies, if there's nothing else. We like our pledges to keep up their grades, it gives the house a good name."
"But I don't want to go to the library, Madame Treasurer."
"I really don't care what you want to do, Purcell. I just said I didn't need you. Do I have to draw you a diagram?"
Dorothy Purcell's heart began to beat rapidly. She remembered just how she had egged on her father to give her the most thrilling spanking of all her life. So far, Brenda had disappointed her by not using that paddle above the mantelpiece. Her flesh crawled at the very thought of submitting herself body and soul, to this arrogant, beautifully dressed silver-blonde dominatress. And that was why she flippantly retorted, "I'm sure you could think of something for me to do if you just tried."
"What's that?" Brenda looked up sharply from her writing desk, her hazel eyes narrowing with annoyance. She was wearing a red silk blouse, mannish tailored light dacron slacks and a pair of black leather jackboots which fitted snugly like a veritable second skin up to her knees. Her hair was styled in a kind of mannish do, short though not cropped, leaving the nape and forehead bare as well as the ears. With her aquiline nose, thin mouth, superciliously thin pencilled brows and slantingly set cheekbones, she emanated an indefinable aura of mingled insolent authority and sensuality. Dorothy Purcell stared at her boldly, as if appraising her, but in reality the masochistic brownette was speculating on how delicious it would be to be humbled and punished by this sophisticatedly lovely young woman.
"I don't like your tone, Purcell." Brenda rose, shoving back her chair and walked slowly towards the pledge. "I told you, you can go. Now don't get snotty with me. Beat it!"
"I'd much rather stay here."
Tightening her lips, Brenda Torrance drew back her right hand and slapped Dorothy Purcell's cheek. The latter gasped, slowly lifted her hand to touch her flaming cheek, but did not give ground, continuing to stare at the arrogant young dominatress.
"Wipe that dreamy look off your face, Purcell!" Brenda hissed. "What's gotten into you, Purcell? You've been a perfect little toady until now. What are you trying to do?"
"Nothing. I should think you'd like to have me be around, and doing something for you, Brenda," was Dorothy Purcell's impudent answer.
"And now you're calling me by my first name, as if we were equals, pledge!" Again Brenda drew back her right hand and smartly slapped the girl's cheek. "You're starting to forget yourself, though I can't understand why. Now apologize and call me by my proper title and then get to hell out of here, or you'll regret, understand me?"
"Of course I understand you. But it's really a silly title. You really don't look a treasurer."
Brenda Torrance gasped incredulously. She'd had pledges before, but never one like this who had been going along in the most approved deferential manner and all of a sudden tried to flout her authority. "I think it's time you had a good lesson, Purcell. You want to stay here this afternoon? All right! Maybe a dose of the paddle will convince you we're not equals and that you don't call me by my first name until you've been initiated and become a Delta Gamma Phi. Get me that paddle on the mantelpiece."
"If you want me to," Dorothy Purcell affected a casually indifferent tone, though in reality she was almost swooning with her own audacity and the sweet torment of anticipation.
For the third time, Brenda's palm cracked against Dorothy Purcell's already crimsoned cheek. "You'll bring it to me on your knees and offer it to me and tell me what I'm to do with it, Purcell!" she vituperatively exclaimed. I don't know what's got into you, but if you're itching for swats, I'll oblige you. Now get that paddle and get it fast!"
Dorothy Purcell turned, almost blind with swirling emotions, and moved towards the mantelpiece, reached up and took down the paddle, then returned, but not on her knees as bidden. Brenda Torrance halted her, hands on hips, with an angry: "I said, on your knees, Purcell! For that, you're going to get double. Now get down and crawl to me the rest of the way. Are you looking for a tribunal meeting and maybe blackballing?"
"Oh no, please don't do that," Dorothy Purcell said in a husky, tremulous voice as she sank down to her knees and moved hastily towards the silver-blonde imperatrix.
"I hope not," Brenda said sarcastically. "I've better things to do with my weekend than waste them having the girls read the riot act to a snotty freshman who's just a little too big for her britches. All right, now what am I to do with the paddle?"
Dorothy Purcell's face was scarlet, and her eyes were swimming with misty excitement as she lifted up the oval shaped implement: "Pleases-sp-spank me with it, M-Madame Treasurer," she quavered.
Brenda leaned down to take the paddle, and remained in that pose, staring compellingly into the humid, gray-green eyes of the pledge: "Spank you where, Purcell?" she pursued in a voice that had suddenly become vibrant with her own emotion. Her small though perfectly proportioned closely spaced round titties had begun to rise and fall rather quickly now against the tight cling of a white nylon bra under the thin blouse.
"On my b-b-bottom, Madame Treasurer," was Dorothy Purcell's tremulous answer.
"Get up and take off your skirt and petticoat or slip or whatever it is you wear, Purcell," was Brenda's next order.
Dorothy Purcell quickly rose to her feet, stopped and unhooked the skirt, then unbuttoned her own blouse and removed it, draping both garments over the back of a nearby straight-back chair. Because of her opulent figure and despite her youth, she wore a pink satin-elastic pantie-girdle whose tabs hooked to the tops of very sheer flesh-toned nylons. Her bra was a matching pink and it hugged the widely spaced, almost indecently jutting young cantaloupes of her titties, shaping out the voluptuously ripe buds of her nipples and showing the shadowy circles of the brownish-coral areolae. Brenda's eyes narrowed, darkening with carnal desire at the sight of that ripe half-nakedness, at that marvellously pale white skin. She perceived a tiny brown oval-shaped birthmark on the inside of Dorothy Purcel's right thigh, midway between knee and crotch. And her own thighs began to twitch and ripple with an unholy excitement. "I'm going to lay them on good and hard, pledge," she told the brownette freshman. "Go lock my door. And then you better turn on the radio."
"I-I won't yell."
"Won't you now!" Brenda sarcastically taunted. "I'll have you begging for mercy after five swats, you wait and see, Purcell! Do what I tell you to, your count is already high enough, and I want you to be able to sit down in class on Monday, you know."
Dorothy Purcell shivered voluptuously at this threat as she hastily moved to the door and shot home the bolt. Then she moved to the little table beside the door and turned on the radio. It was a rock'n roll program, with blaring beat. "That's just perfect, pledge," the silver-blonde giggled. "I'll see if I can't swat your hind end to that tempo. Now let's see, how shall I do this? Assuming the angle is the customary way here at Delta Gamma Phi, but you've been a little bit too uppity this afternoon to get off that easy. Hmm. And you're going to get it on the bare, too, Purcell. Twelve good spanks, and you're going to count them out, every one of them, and you're going to call me 'Madame Treasurer' after each, just so you don't forget from now on what you're supposed to say to me. Understood?"
CHAPTER NINE
"Oh yes, Madame Treasurer," Dorothy Purcell stammered. She unhooked the tabs which tenaciously clung to the tops of her nylons, then unfastened the pantie-girdle and slowly began to shove it down, being compelled to grasp the hems and tug energetically while twisting her opulent young hips.
As the thick dark brown triangular muff of her pledge's pussyhair appeared, Brenda's breath came more and more quickly, and she clutched the taped handle of the paddle with a feverish impatience as she tapped the smooth flat applicator against her left palm: "Get a move on, Purcell, you're not putting on a striptease, you know! I'll make you move in a hurry, you watch! Now then, suppose you just bend over my desk there, hold onto the sides with your hands and you better not let go if you know what's good for you."
"Y-yes, M-Madame Treasurer!" Dorothy Purcell quavered. Naked except for bra and her sagging nylons and pumps, she made her way towards the desk at the window. The shades had already been drawn, but in her masochistic mood she wouldn't have cared if the whole world had seen. Her thighs seemed to give way beneath her, and there was a tickling, warm sensation between them which almost made her faint with pleasure.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward abruptly, the edge of the desk cold and hard against her naked belly. She groped for the edges with her hands and clutched them almost desperately, laying her face on the cold smooth surface with her right cheek pressed against it and keeping her eyes tightly shut.
Brenda Torrance slowly advanced, in no hurry now. Her throat pulse had begun to beat furiously in the soft hollow of her slim poised neck, and her eyes devoured the splendidly and exaggeratedly distended milky bare bottom offered up to her fustigatory attentions.
"Spread your legs a little more than that, Purcell!" she imperiously directed, and was at once obeyed. The pink fruit of Dorothy Purcell's cunthole gaped in lascivious invitation, framed by the dark brown curls of love hair which fleeced it. She could see the muscles quivering and rippling in the victim's calves and thighs, and her pert pink tongue feverishly flicked the corners of her thin mouth as she took her stance at Dorothy Purcell's left.
"Start counting and don't forget what else you're supposed to say, pledge," she declared.
Then, without warning, she drew back the paddle and landed it solidly across both upper bottom summits.
Taken by surprise and given no opportunity to steel herself for the paddling, the almost naked young freshman uttered a startled squeal and kicked up her right foot as she nervously glanced back. Then, quickly remembering her obligation, she gasped out, "One, M-Madame T-Treasurer!"
The very first spank had left a flaming imprint on the milky globes which stood out from the smooth perfection of that immaculately white flesh. "Spread your legs a little more," Brenda now ordered as she lowered the paddle and studied her handiwork.
As soon as Dorothy Purcell had complied, the lips of her vulva yawned even more lasciviously, and long, sporadic tremors raced up and down her straddled thighs and the tensing cheeks of her naked bottom. Again without warning Brenda Torrance drew back the paddle and stepped forward to bring it cracking noisily over exactly the same area. "Aaahh! T-two-M-Madame Treasurer!" Dorothy Purcell gasped with just a hint of tears in her soft voice. As the paddle collided with her naked behind, her hips convulsively swerved from side to side, and her head lifted slightly from the surface of the table.
"Are you feeling a little less snotty now, Purcell?" the silver-blonde jeeringly inquired, stepping forward and just pressing the paddle lightly over the exact middle of both nether globes. She was rewarded by seeing Dorothy Purcell's body squirm and try to wriggle forward even more, while at the same time the freshman's soft little fingers tightened on the edges of the desk. The maneuver made her bottom-muscles flex and shudder, as Brenda continued to keep the paddle pressed against its fleshy target. "I-I'm sorry, Madame Treasurer," Dorothy Purcell murmured.
"Not half as sorry as you're going to be before I finish with you, pledge! Now hold that pose, it's just right!" And with this, drawing back the paddle she launched it forward and horizontally over the exact spot she had just marked, flattening the ripely curved summits and drawing a stifled "Ohhhouuu! T-three-M-Madame T-Treasurer!" from the victim.
Brenda Torrance lowered the paddle and stepped back to contemplate the quivering, reddened, jutting bottom of her pledge-victim. Dorothy Purcell sighed, almost inaudibly, turned her face onto her left cheek and remained in this sacrificial and shamefully demeaning pose with her bottom thrust out lasciviously and her legs widely spread, digging the heels of her pumps into the floor to balance herself. The stress of the muscular tension made long rippling waves visible along her stockinged calves and thighs and the palpitating flesh of her naked bottom. The pink gape of her cunt seemed to yawn even more invitingly than at the outset of the paddling.
Brenda's hazel eyes were glittering now and her tongue flicked the corners of her sadistically compressed mouth as she studied the lush young victim. Then, turning slightly at right angles, and lowering the paddle to the floor, she sent it sweeping upwards to collide with a sharp resonant impact against the base of Dorothy Purcell's right bottom globe. The young pledge stiffened, lifted her head and emitted sobbing, "Oww! F-four, M-Madame-T-Treasurer, ohhh, ohh oh my!" Her soft little fingers once again shifted along the edges of the desk to find a better hold, and she also seemed to move her pump shod feet slightly as if striving for a more secure balance. The splotch just imprinted by the paddle flamed vividly on the enchantingly ripe, swelling fleshy curve which rose from the top of the thigh to merge into the opulent, round jut of her naked seat.
Pleased at this effect, Brenda moved slightly to the left now, and again lowering the paddle, sent it travelling upwards with a dexterous flick of her wrist. The noisy Smack! was instantly echoed by Dorothy Purcell's tearful, "Ouuuuu! Ahhrrr! That's f-five-M-Madame T-Treasurer, ohh it does sting so, ohh!" And this time her face turned back over her left shoulder, so that Brenda could see the tears glistening in those dilated gray-green eyes and observe the quivering of Dorothy's nostril and the trembling of her lips as she squirmed uneasily over the top of the writing desk.
"You've got seven left, pledge." The silver blonde reminded the quivering victim. "Maybe you're sorry you didn't take your afternoon off when I gave it to you, hmm, Purcell?"
"N-n-no," came the faintly murmured reply as Dorothy Purcell once again pressed her left cheek against the top of the desk, steadied herself by digging her soft fingers into the edges of this altar of self-desired martyrdom. If anything, she seemed to spread her thighs still more widely apart, and Brenda caught her breath at the lascivious exhibition of her pledge's pussy and shad owy bottomhole groove. The five spanks had left extremely bright outlines of the oval shape of the applicator, standing out against the rest of the milky bottom and upper thighs and lower back with a salacious intensity.
"Are you trying to be smart, pledge?" the silver-blonde irritatedly demanded. "Don't tell me you prefer sticking your heinie out for my paddle instead of going over to Denby's for a soda or a sundae, by any chance?"
"Yes, I d-do, M-Madame Treasurer," came the even more astonishing faltered and faint reply. Dorothy's cheeks were crimson with her own blushes, and her heart was beating so loudly and so rapidly she thought she was going to faint. The hot sting of the paddle, during this pause, had augmented and spread its warmth to her loins. Knowing that she was abandoning the most intimate parts of her body to this autocratic tormentress was giving Dorothy Purcell the hots. As she closed her eyes again and waited for the rest of her spanking, she could see in her mind's eye her father's punishing her mother, and then, even more excitingly, her own vigorous thrashing. Unconsciously, as these thoughts intensified the tickling, hot sensation in her gaping quim, she squirmed herself a little more over the front edge of the desk and turned her face to rest it on the other cheek. She felt her calves trembling uncontrollably.
Brenda Torrance was taken aback by the impudent bravado of the victim. Most pledges she had had before started snivelling and whining before the very first swat fell, and begged off after two or three. But Dorothy Purcell was a new experience for her, and she didn't quite get it at first. "Don't tell me you actually like this sort of indoor sport, Purcell!" she sarcastically quipped as she patted the plump, juttingly rounded bare bottom, preparatory to delivering the sixth swat. The light brown-haired pledge shivered, and was about to speak but thought better of it; an instinctive surge of virginal modesty held her back from that fatal admission. And she pressed herself further forward so that her bottom seemed to stick out even more to invite the chalorous kisses of the punishment implement, thus letting her flesh speak for her.
Brenda scowled. She took a fresh grip on the taped handle of the paddle, drew it back, poised it a moment in the air, and then landed it with all her might across the ripest curves of both jutting rotundities. "Ohhhahrrr! Ohh, that's-six, M-Madame Treasurer! Ohh, ohh, it does sting!" Dorothy Purcell's voice was higher-pitched than ever before. She seemed to reach ahead of her with her trembling little hands to grip a new place along the edges of the desk, her knees bent slightly, then returned to a trembling straightness, while her hips agitatedly wriggled as if to disperse the really flaming torment in her naked bottom.
"That's the halfway point, pledge. I'll give you a minute to rest." Brenda lowered the paddle, walked over to the little night table beside her bed and took a Pall Mall from a rumpled pack of cigarettes, lit it and then turned to study her culprit. Dorothy Purcell was crying very softly, almost inaudibly. Her shoulders were quivering, and she was shifting her pump shod feet as if to try to find a securer vantage point in which to endure the finale of her punishment. The marks left by the earlier spanks had darkened now, and the last two flamed obscenely by contrast. Her nylon hose had started to rumple down, and the left stocking was almost at her knee hollow. The milky column of her bare back and its purity of sculpture attracted Brenda's appraising gaze now as she slowly moved back towards the desk, swinging the paddle back and forth in her right hand and puffing at her cigarette which she held in the left. "You're pretty brave, Purcell. But I'm going to make you howl these last six, you watch. Are you ready now?"
A faint little sigh escaped the bent-over girl. But she didn't answer. Brenda made a grimace of annoyance and, lifting the paddle, brought it in a downward sweeping arc to smack wickedly over the upper summit of the right bottom globe.
"Owww! S-seven, M-Madame Treasurer!" Dorothy Purcell's voice was strained and anguished now as she glanced back at her tormentress.
"That doesn't count, that's for not answering me when I speak to you, pledge. You still have six left. And boy, is that heinie of yours nice and red! Remember, it's a rule around Delta Gamma Phi that if a pledge gets out of position when she's having correction, she gets extra. Now get that tail of yours ready again!" Brenda warned.
This time the oval-shaped spanking instrument clacked emphatically against the base of the victim's buttock, and Dorothy Purcell twisted her hips furiously back and forth, lifting her flushed and tearstained face towards the window as she groaned, "Ouch, s-seven, Madame Treasurer. Ohhhh, that stings, that really stings!"
"I'm glad to have your opinion of it, pledge. You've really got a butt made for paddling. You keep on acting snotty and you won't be able to wear panties for a long time. And don't forget, Hell Week's coming up pretty soon." With this the silver-blonde applied the paddle diagonally, over the inner edge of the right bottom cheek, right over the shadowy crease, pinching the tender flesh together. Dorothy Purcell's head rose, her eyes staring ahead of her, blinded by new tears. A sobbing wail escaped her, "Eeyeoww! Ouuu! Eight, Madame Treasurer, oh, it does hurt, it does!"
"Well, maybe by now you really are sorry you didn't take the afternoon off. Now I want an answer, pledge." Brenda pressed the paddle over the lower curves of both flinching, vividly reddened bottom globes.
"Ohh ... ahhh ... n-n-no, M-Madame Treasurer," was the unbelievable sobbingly-voiced reply.
"Are you purposely trying to show off how brave you can get, pledge? That's a stupid answer. Maybe I ought not to stop at the four you've got left, but keep on going, hm?"
"If you w-want to," Dorothy Purcell panted, glancing back with tear-blurred dilated eyes and taking a new grip of the edge of the desk with her feverishly twisting little soft fingers while her hips moved restlessly from side to side, then up and down-almost as if she was trying to jack herself off.
Brenda glowered, walked over to the night table and crushed out her cigarette. She frowned, contemplating the out-thrust, furiously inflamed naked behind offered so servilely to her discipline. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and commanded, in a harsh, sneering voice, "Come over here and put yourself over my lap! I want a little heart-to-heart talk with you, pledge!"
With an effort Dorothy Purcell straightened herself, grimacing with pain as the maneuver sent new waves of fiery torment through her swollen bottom. Then, eyes downcast, her superb round titties rising and falling vehemently against the clinging bra which was her only veil, she slowly approached the silver-blonde imperatrix. Docilely, she crouched herself over Brenda Torrence's knees, being forced to stand on the floor and to grasp the sheets on the edge of the bed with both hands to support herself as she turned towards it at an angle. Long violent shudders ran up and down her body.
Brenda Torrance circled the light-brown-haired freshman's waist with her left arm, playfully patted the flaming behind upturned so lewdly to her ministrations. "What makes you tick, Purcell? You're giving all the wrong answers, you know. If I were in your shoes, my hind end would be scorched by now. And you've still got four hard swats left, don't forget."
"I-I know. I-I can t-take them, Madame Treasurer."
"I'm pretty sure you can, but what I want to know is why. Come on answer me, or I'll paddle it out of you anyhow. You'd better level with me, Purcell!"
Dorothy Purcell's tear-wet, flushed face was pressed against the edge of the bed and her fingers were twisting the rumpled sheets. She was in an uncomfortable angle, crouched over with her throbbing, hot bottom lewdly upturned over the silver-blonde dominatress's lap. And she could feel Brenda's left palm bearing down on her neck, pinioning her helplessly. Her buttocks cringed at the thought of the paddle suspended above them and likely to fall at any instant. And yet she had never been so excited, so alive, so aware that her pussy was moistening and churning inside of her and that she was as hot as if a boy were f-fucking her....
"I'm waiting, Purcell!" Brenda's voice was husky and low, throbbing with sadistic impulse. And, just to punctuate her words, she applied two or three light cracks of the pinewood paddle across the upper summits of Dorothy's behind.
"Ohh-ahhh-oh please-I-I'll tell-please, I'm so uncomfortable this way, I'm losing my balance," Dorothy tearfully panted, squirming uneasily.
But the fiery anguish in her naked bottom had suddenly turned to the most exquisite kind of lust; she had never known about such things, but all she felt was as if the moment had come when she was about to attain the supreme love-experience in her life!
"I'm getting bored to hell with you, Purcell," Brenda Torrance snapped. She pressed the paddle down against the base of Dorothy's behind and kept it there just to warn the girl to start talking.
"I-it's awfully embarrassing-it's when my father sp-spanked me once, hard-and-I was so ashamed but I couldn't help it-and I felt-and I felt-" her voice began to trail off and suddenly Dorothy Purcell burst into irrational tears.
Brenda stared down at the furiously discolored big round bottom cheeks, twitching and flexing in an uncontrollable way. She could see the dainty puckering crevice of Dorothy's asshole, and the dark brown curls of pussyhair framing that pink sweet fig of a cunt, like the frame of an immortal painting. And her own pussy began to twitch and get moist. She hadn't had any girlfucking in ages, not really. Oh sure, there were a few bitches here at the house, but nobody she could really be intimate and tender with, the kind she could tell secrets to in bed with. And all of a sudden, in a most unexpected way, this plain-faced big girl who was an absolute booby had come into her life and actually wanted to be thrashed! It was as plain as day now, and all the snotty remarks Dorothy Purcell had made to her, all the little bluffs and acts, had all been after a pattern. Mi Gawd! She'd been stupid not to recognize the signs. Why, Dorothy Purcell was just a little masochist, that's what she was.
Brenda Torrance shivered and closed her eyes for a moment to savor the rich voluptuous sensations swirling in her. It was like a connoisseur discovering unexpectedly a vintage wine in a cheap restaurant. It was too good to be true. It had to be digested.
"I see what you mean, Purcell," she tried to make her voice cold and impersonal. "So you're getting a kick out of this instead of suffering punishment, are you? I'll have to see about that. We can't have a bitchy little pledge pulling the wool over a sorority officer's eyes, we can't. Turn yourself a little so you're just over my left knee-that's the way. I know it's uncomfortable, and I'm going to make it even more so. Get your face down on that bed and hide it from me, you little bitch. Stick that big ass of yours up because you've got four more hard ones coming, and I might just double it. Now then. Don't forget to count!"
Her fingers had dug into the scruff of Dorothy Purcell's neck and twisted the panting, shivering almost naked young freshman until she had been compelled to mash her titties against the edge of the bed, her face just on top of the sheets and her fingers twisting them, her bottom uptilted at an exaggerated and obscene angle, and her thighs bending and giving way because of all the emotions heaving in her and also because of the fierce heat that the paddle had engendered in her naked hind end.
Then, Brenda had applied four swift smacks, without any pause whatsoever, over the plumpish curves of both nether globes, and then tossed the paddle onto the bed while Dorothy Purcell had cried out, sobbed and groaned, twisting and squirming frantically and then burst into hysterical sobs.
For a long moment, the silver-blonde stared at that squirming bent-over body, the stockings having sagged down to the girl's calves. The sight of the milky flesh above which the opulent and dark-crimson hemispheres of her behind rose made her weak with lust in that sensual contrast which the white and the dark-red provided. Her nipples were flint-hard and her cunt was wet by now.
"You didn't count any of those, Purcell, so now I'm really going to punish you. No, stay where you are, I don't care if your muscles are aching, you little trickster, I know what you'd like. You'd just love to have me make Hell Week tomorrow night and send you through the mill a couple of times so you could just wallow in being a martyr and getting your kicks that way. And you'd proba bly fiddle with your twat with your finger till you creamed, you disgusting, nasty little dyke you!"
She was relishing the mouthing of these lust words. Keeping her left hand on the scruff of the sobbing girl's neck, she stealthily began to unbutton her blouse and then, shrugging her shoulders out of it, tugged it away. Next, reaching behind her with her right hand, she managed to unhook her own bra and let that fall to the floor. Her small but firm bubbies were rising and falling quickly, the nipples dark with longing. And then very gently and without warning, she advanced her right palm to the flaming, swollen hemispheres of Dorothy Purcell's well-paddled naked ass and began to caress the cheeks, feeling their warmth.
"Ohh-ahhh-ohhhh, M-Madame T-Treasurer-ohhhh!" Dorothy Purcell tearfully exhaled. Her bottom began to squirm and twist, as if following the movements of Brenda's stroking hand. The silver-blonde now slipped her hand under Dorothy's belly and moved it down until her fingertips could feel the mossy fronds of pussyhair. Just as she had suspected, Dorothy's cunt was wet and palpitating. Why, that sweet little tricky bitch, she hadn't been lying at all!
Brenda's passions were so furious that it was all she could do to control herself. "You're hot right now, aren't you, Purcell?" she crooned.
"Oh please-sp-spank me, punish me, I'll be a good girl, but don't be mad at me, please, Madame T-Treasurer," Dorothy Purcell whimpered.
She was the most perfect masochist Brenda Torrance had ever met. It was just too good to be true. Oh what fun they were going to have until "Hell Week" and long after that! Brenda's finger tips began to move around in the moist twitching slit, till at last she found Dorothy's love-tickler. "Shall I do this to you, you randy little bitch you?" she whispered. And she began to frig the girl.
"Ohhh-ahhh-mmmm-ouuu-pi-please ahhhh-oh it's so-oh God-oh yes, yes, oh please do it to me, I'll be such a good slave to you, I'll do anything you want, Madame Treasurer!" Dorothy Purcell babbled. She was twisting and squirming her big reddened ass every which way now, pressing her panting titties against the edge of the bed, clawing the sheets, her breath coming in dramatic rhythm. And then all of a sudden her body seemed to heave and jerk and contract and then she sagged forward, moaning softly. She had come.
"Get on that bed and make it fast, Purcell!" Brenda snarled. She seized the girl's hips with her hands and lifted her slightly and forced her forward. Slowly, wanly, the almost naked freshman crawled forward and lay there, sprawled, face turned to one side, eyes closed. Brenda swiftly drew down the zipper of her mannish slacks, then plunged both hands under the waistband of the garment, wriggling until she could work down her brief panties and expose her cunt. A frenzied tickling was taking possession of it now. But she wanted to keep on her jackboots. The blouse and bra off, naked to the waist and with the fly of the slacks open, the silver-blonde had never been more domineeringly lustful. She clambered onto the bed, and knelt up, straddling her legs with her hands on her hips. "Purcell!" she snapped. "I've done you, and now you're going to do your Big Sister! Crawl over here, put your hands on my legs and gam me!"
Dorothy Purcell, her stockings sagging around her ankles now, clad in only the bra, lifted her tear-wet face and stared wonderingly at her beautiful, sadistic executioner. She shuddered with delight at the cruel promise in Brenda Torrance's hazel eyes. And then, edging herself along the rumpled sheets, she reached out her hands and grasped Brenda's thighs as she glued her mouth to the open fly which gaped enough in this straddled pose to show her the dark reddish-brown true-colored pussyhair which fleeced her "Big Sister's" cunt. And, shivering with ecstasy in her newly found rapture, her bottom furiously burning and sending its heat waves through every subtle nerve of her virginal body, Dorothy began to gamahuch the treasurer of the Delta Gamma Phi sorority.
CHAPTER TEN
The other two new pledges selected by Delta Gamma Phi as potential sorority sisters were in no way like masochistic Dorothy Purcell, who had found her long-dreamed-of fulfillment under the domineering paddle (and between the legs) of insolent silver-blonde Brenda Torrance. One of them was Margie Stanwyk, a seventeen-year-old black-haired freshman sent summarily away from her home in St. Louis when her mother and father had found her dressed only in bobbysocks about to be fucked on the living room couch late one Saturday night when they had unexpectedly come home ahead of schedule from a quick vacation in New York.
Technically, Margie was still cherry, but she was secretly hoping that being far away on a coeducational campus would give her a swift opportunity to rid herself of this unwanted hindrance to making out. Her parents, however, had written the Dean of Women a good deal about their daughter's passionate proclivities and urged the Dean to see to it that Margie was channeled in the right direction so far as plenty of homework and mental stimulus was concerned. It had been through the Dean's influence, as a matter-of-fact, that the saucy, lithe brunette had received a bid from this selective sorority-and it was ironic that Dean Helga Magnus was totally unaware of the undercurrent of Lesbianism prevailing at the house, just as she knew very little about Mrs. Grange's own lustful desires.
Margie Stanwyk was about five feet six inches in height, with a slim, willowy body, lovely long legs, a pert oval shaped bottom as compact as a boy's, olive-satiny skin, and an impertinent, freckled face. Her black hair was very chicly styled in an eyebrow-concealing temple-to-temple bang. The top hair swirled into a dome, while the sides took a forward direction. It emphasized the slight angularity of her oval face, made her cat-green eyes all the more alluringly expressive, and pronounced the petulant sensuality of her small but extremely ripe mouth.
Her "Big Sister" was Jane Allen, a twenty-one-year-old auburn-haired senior who had had a miserably unhappy love affair in her sophomore year and had sworn off men. That was why Jane had been eagerly pledged, and she had fitted in perfectly. Noreen Grange herself had initiated Jane into the sweet mysteries of pussy rubbing and gamming, and by now the auburn-haired senior was as ardent a devotee of Sappho as might be found any where on campus. From the very first, she had the hots for Margie, but the latter had shown no sign of reciprocation. Margie had a spirited nature, which had cost her several strappings from her father back in St. Louis, and so she didn't take kindly to orders even from a senior. As a result, her very first week in the Delta Gamma Phi house, she was given the order to assume the angle and to hoist up skirt and petticoat.
She had indignantly refused and said that she didn't go in for that sort of kid stuff. Jane Allen just laughed and gave her a second warning, which Margie also defied. The girl across the hall, Deborah McMillan,, a twenty-year-old blonde junior who had on occasion been Jane's lover, was only too happy to help out in correcting a rebellious freshman. In a few moments, the indignant young brunette freshman found herself pulled across a desk and while Deborah squatted down and held onto her wrists, Jane lofted skirt and petticoat, then yanked down Margie's white nylon pantie briefs, and proceeded to apply ten good hard swats with her paddle where they would do Margie the most good. At the halfway mark, Margie was wailing and sobbing as if her heart would break, and by the time the last swat fell on her burning bare behind, she was just about ready to do anything. She proved it by being extremely submissive and docile the following week in running all of Jane's errands. But she was still brooding about the injustice and the indignity.
The sorority house had been informed by Dean Magnus of Margie's tendencies to wander from the path of virtue when something handsome in pants crossed her view. Jane Allen was also aware of this, on the word of Madge Trenton herself. That advice happened to fit perfectly in with her own plans, because she wanted Margie to become her personal bed-slave and as soon as possible. So on this same Saturday when Dorothy Purcell had become transfigured by a burning bottom to find equally hot ecstasy in her loins, Jane Allen imperiously ordered Margie to sweep and clean her room thoroughly. Margie pouted, but she didn't especially want another dose of the paddle, so at least she held her tongue this time. However, she did the work grudgingly, and several times Jane glanced irritatedly over to watch Margie just giving a listless lick and a promise with the broom and dustpan.
"That'll be enough of that gold-bricking, Stanwyk!" she crossly snapped. "Come over here and stand at attention, hands clasped behind your back and looking me square in the eye!"
"Oh, gee," Margie grumbled as she let the broom drop with a clatter to the floor and walked slowly over to face her "Big Sister," who had turned her chair away from her writing desk and was staring with no little annoyance at the attractive brunette pledge. Margie wore a miniskirt which did wonders to exhibit the long sleek beauty of her sinuously high-set calves and gracefully slender thighs, which were sheathed diaphanously in smoke-hued pantie-hose. "Wipe that sulky look off your face, Stanwyk!" the auburn-haired senior directed with a frown. "Now, I think you're just begging for another session with that heinie-duster on my closet shelf."
"That's not fair!" Margie protested, "we've got a maid at home and I'm not used to doing this sort of thing. I can't help it if it takes me longer because I never did it before."
"I'm not complaining about that, I'm complaining about your attitude. You're looking as if you were sentenced to penal servitude at life and I caught some of the dirty looks you've sent my way, Stanwyk. I really think that first dusting-off didn't make the lesson sink in. What's with you, anyway?"
"Well, if you have to know, I'm just sick and tired of being cooped up like some sort of servant here," Margie burst out.
"Oh? So you don't like our sorority house?"
"I didn't say that. I just said I'd like to have a date once in a while and live like other people. Like the way you do, maybe."
"In the first place, I'm a senior and you're a lowly frosh. In the second, I don't happen to be interested in boys."
"No? That's a laugh!"
"Just watch your tongue, Stanwyk!" Jane Allen flushed angrily. "For your information, I know all about your little fun and games back in St. Louis. That's why you're here. This sorority doesn't much care for boys in general, so make up your mind to it you're not going to go out on any orgies."
"Who says I want to go out on orgies?" Margie Stanwyk huffily retorted. "I just want to get laid, that's all. What's so wrong with that?"
A strange glow came into Jane Allen's dark-blue eyes. "Is that all?" she huskily queried.
"That's all. And I'd much rather be doing that than this, I can tell you. Go ahead and paddle me, I suppose because I'm a freshman I haven't got any rights at all, but it's still unfair."
"This time, Margie, I'm not going to paddle you. But I'm going to tell you something. I'm taking you into my confidence, but if you dare breathe a word outside this house, I'll call you a liar and I'll have you blackballed from DGP. And you know what happens when we blackball a pledge, Margie; we call her before all the officers and the girls, and then we have her strip naked and we put a dog collar and leash around her neck and lead her on all fours through the mill a couple of times. And if you think you had a paddling last time, compared with that you'd think somebody was just giving you a massage. Get me?"
"I'm listening," Margie stammered sullenly.
Jane rose and approached. She was about five feet eight, magnificently statuesque in her svelte loveliness. She had a small bottom and big round titties, but her exceptionally lovely long legs had often drawn wolf whistles on campus. Her auburn hair was softly waved and set with the ends swinging away from her face as she moved, giving her somewhat haughty features an interesting kind of animation. She was wearing a thin cotton sweater and skirt that descended to her knees, ankle socks and loafers, and her delicious tawny sheened legs were bare. She stood in front of Margie Stanwyk and stared compellingly at the black-haired pledge till the latter shifted nervously and lowered her eyes.
"There are ways of getting laid, pledge, without having a boy do it. Or maybe you didn't know that," she said slowly.
"Yah? How, I'd sure like to know!"
"Do you really mean that?"
"Of course I do!"
"All right, suppose you take off all your clothes. I'm going to show you how it can be done."
"Hey now, wait a minute!" Margie blushingly protested. "I don't go that route. I'm no dyke!"
Jane Allen's hand shot out and smartly smacked Margie's cheek. "Don't ever use that ugly word again, not anywhere in this house, or you'll really go through the mill. And anyway, what I'm going to show you will, I think, if you try to use what little intelligence you've got, convince you that you can have all the fun a boy can give you and none of the trouble."
"You hit me," Margie muttered angrily, rubbing her flaming cheek. "So you're the big boss and I have to stand here and take it. All right, show me. But it better be good! You can't make me do it if I don't want to, and I don't have to take off all my clothes. A freshman's got some rights, even here."
Jane Allen gave her a long scathing look, then thought better of a reply and walked over to her chest of drawers. She stooped to the bottom drawer, pulled it open and took out a box. She returned to the wide double bed, set the box down on it and then took off the lid. "Come over here and look, Stanwyk," she invited.
With a heartfelt sigh that expressed her utter boredom at having to waste her time this way, Margie Stanwyk ambled over to the bed. Then her eyes widened and her jaw dropped: "Oh gosh!" she ejaculated, "it-it's a pr-prick!"
"Why, Margie," Jane Allen teased sadistically, "sweet little freshman like you, knowing such a naughty word. No wonder your folks wrote the Dean to have her look after you, so she turned it over to us. Don't you worry, Margie, I'll see that you get laid as often as you want."
"With-with that! Margie echoed incredulously.
"Sure. Look, it's made of rubber, and it looks exactly like what you just said, doesn't it? Balls and all. And I'll tell you something else. See this little button near the balls?"
Fascinated, Margie nodded, not taking her eyes from the implement, which was of course a highly realistic flesh-colored rubber dildo with web strap and even artificial hair covering the testes, so realistic that even the dark-blue veins of a swollen male prick appeared along the imitative shaft.
"There's a little cylinder inside which you fill with warm water or something else like that. You press this little button and presto, you feel yourself squirted. Only this kind of squirt doesn't make babies, Margie. Now do you get the picture?"
Margie blushed violently, lowered her eyes and then nodded. "Y-yah-I-I see what you mean. But gee, I mean-won't it hurt-I mean-"
"Come on, baby, take off your clothes and let Mama show you how it works," Jane Allen huskily whispered. Her hands moved forward towards Margie's titties and fondled them gently, and then she kissed Margie squarely on the mouth.
Margie hadn't been prepared for a Lesbian seduction scene. But she had been extremely lonely here at Northeastern, and only last night she had frigged herself to sleep, pretending that it was Donnie, the boy who had just about taken her cherry until her folks had walked in so unexpectedly. And so, averting her eyes from the somewhat amused auburn-haired senior, she began to undress until she was down to her smoke-colored pantie hose and pumps.
The sight of that voluptuous half-naked olive-skinned figure made Jane Allen tremble with ill-concealed lust. She quickly stripped naked except for her ankle socks and loafers, attached the dildo and faced Margie, who began to giggle.
"So you think this is a laughing matter, Stanwyk?" Jane angrily rasped. "Just for that, I am going to spank you. I'm going to warm your bottom up so your pussy will get real hot. Then you'll see how much better this is than a boy. It doesn't ever get soft, the way a boy's does, either."
Laying the dildo back in its box, she advanced on Margie who backed away. But Jane was taller and more wiry, and in a few moments Margie felt herself mastered. Jane adroitly posed her left foot on the edge of the bed, forced Margie across her upraised knee, her left hand gripping Margie by the scruff of the neck, and then she began to spank Margie's nylon-sheathed bottom with energetic swats from her open right palm. Soon Margie was squealing and beginning to dance and trying to fend off the spanks with both hands. When this happened, Jane dexterously caught her wrists in her left hand and continued the spanking even more vigorously till soon Margie was sobbing and begging her to stop.
"Take off the pantie-hose and your pumps and get into bed or I will use the paddle," she warned.
Sniffling, tearful Margie Stanwyk hastily obeyed and clambered into bed, looking fearfully at the box. Jane grinned coolly as she took it out again and put it back on. Margie's eyes widened as Jane mounted the bed now and came towards her on her knees. "Open wide, baby, just as if you were at the dentist," Jane quipped.
"It-it'll hurt-please don't-take it easy," Margie quavered nervously, clenching her fists and digging them against the sheets as she tried to back away.
"I've already rubbed some vaseline over it, you hot-pussied little bitch," Jane said in a vibrant contralto. "Now shut up and I'll show you how you can get fucked all you want and not get into trouble on this campus."
Margie whimpered as the menacing glans of the artificial prick approached the black-curly-haired mount of her virgin cunt. Jane impatiently took hold of the soft fleshy pink lips of the vulva with thumbs and forefingers and yawned it open as she advanced the simulacrum. Then she slowly advanced herself until she banged up against Margie's cherry.
"Oww! That does hurt! Oh please take it out, Jane, please!"
"If you say another word, I'll call Deborah in and we'll give you the paddle till you can't sit down for a month," Jane threatened. It sufficed. Whimpering, Margie closed her eyes, twisted her face away and at that moment Jane lunged forward, breaking through the seal of Margie Stanwyk's maidenhead.
Then, stretching out over the girl, her mouth fused to Margie's as her hands slipped under Margie's inflamed and still warm bottom. She began to fuck slowly, with slow deliberate thrusts, hilting the artificial weapon, then as slowly with drawing it to the very brink of Margie's pussy. Slyly her forefinger slipped between the firm stainy cheeks of Margie's bottom, found the dainty rosette of Margie's asshole, and delicately intruded just inside. Margie's sphincter muscle began to clench and contract, and the naked brunette moaned and arched and wriggled: "Aah-oh please-oh Jane, it does hurt-it's stretching me to pieces-ooooh, please take it out-don't goose me-oohhh, ahhhh!"
But Jane by now decided to take the upper hand as, in her role of senior and "Big Sister," she had every right to do. She dug her finger in to the hilt and began to wriggle it around in Margie's tight humid bumhole, while she quickened the thrusts of the rubber ramrod. And soon Margie was beginning to arch and wriggle and twist, to buck and weave and to groan in the throes of impending girl-gush. Suddenly, with a sobbing cry of delight, she clamped her arms and legs around Jane and returned kiss for kiss, parting her lips and letting Jane's tongue delve in.
And thus it was that Margie Stanwyk, sent away far from home to preserve her cherry, lost it but technically retained her virginity to man!
* * *
Finally, Eleanor Montrose, two months short of her seventeenth birthday and already a potential beauty contest winner with her helmet-styled golden hair, huge blue eyes and Cupid's bow of a passionate red mouth, was assigned to the tender mercies of Bella Carter, a twenty-year-old copper-haired junior who was being slated to replace Madge Trenton as sorority prexy when Madge's term was up.
Bella was a switch hitter, an heiress in her own right. She had come from Memphis and enrolled at Northeastern to be near her forty-five-year-old uncle, an insurance counselor whose office was in one of Chicago's North Side suburbs. Her parents had divorced three years ago, and her father had died of a heart attack the following year, on his wedding night to a girl half his age. She had frenched him to death, literally. But Bella had been initiated by her uncle into the mysteries of prick and pussy and their ultimate cohesion at the tender age of fourteen, and when her uncle had married just a year ago, she had secretly become the Lesbian partner of his devastatingly lovely twenty-nine-year-old wife Kathy. Since Bella's uncle had a sadistic flair in his makeup, he had taught both his wife and his niece to stage spanking games in which he would be the arbiter and ultimate victor; the two young women would play strip poker to determine who would be the loser. Whoever was naked first was spanked by the other, and the Bella's uncle decided whom he preferred to fuck. The girl being fucked, however, had to requite her part of this lust-triangle by gamahuching her as the latter knelt astride her mouth.
Eleanor Montrose, on the other hand, was a naive virgin and had come to school for an education, a rarity in our modern day and age. Her parents had sheltered her from dating, realizing only too well that her voluptuously ripe beauty might lead her to many pitfalls. What they didn't know was that she was intensely curious and what she lacked in knowledge, she made up for in latent sensual impulse. On this very same Saturday afternoon, she was listening agog to Bella's fascinatingly erotic stories about the latter's own bedtime frolics. "You mean-you can have sex with a man and with a woman too and enjoy them both?" she gasped, turning a delicious scarlet.
"Sure, stupid," her "Big Sister" giggled. "Don't knock it unless you've tried it, as the saying goes. And what about you, Elli? Haven't you ever been boffed by a guy?"
"Oh no!" Eleanor Montrose gasped, her blushes deepening still more and spreading almost to her spectacularly round, closely set and high-perched titties.
Bella eyed her pledge with more than friendly curiosity. So far, Eleanor had been a very good girl about running errands and had escaped paddling, which was also something of a rarity at Delta Gamma Phi. But that wasn't to say that Bella didn't have burning desires to strip Eleanor's voluptuous ass and see what interesting colors a paddle could raise on the girl's marvelously pink-and-white velvety skin. Now, she concluded, would be as good a time as any. "How'd you like to have a little fun this afternoon, baby?" she gently inquired.
"I-I don't know what you mean."
"You just do what I tell you to-you have to, anyway, because I'm your 'Big Sister,' Ellie. Now this is an order. I want you to take off your clothes right now."
"Everything? Oh-but I've never-I mean-I've never been all bare in front of even my mother," the golden-haired freshman gasped.
Bella told herself that this girl was almost too good to be true. She had small pointed closely spaced titties, a slim waist and a magnificently undulating, upstandingly rounded bottom, as well as a devastatingly strawberry-blonde complexion. If truth be told, her uncle much preferred her bottom to spank to that of his own luscious brown-haired wife's. And, knowing something about the reputation of the sorority in which his niece was enrolled and in which she stood in such high esteem, he had purchased a dildo for her, whimsically telling her, "If worse comes to worst, Bella baby, and you can't get into town to see us as often as you'd like, Amy and I want you to have this so you can take care of those burning little needs between those gorgeous legs of yours."
As Eleanor still hesitated, Bella sharply repeated: "That's an order, frosh! Peel!"
"Oh please, Bella, don't make me-I'd get so ashamed-" Eleanor quavered.
"Would you rather have a good sound paddling on the bare instead?" was the alternative.
Eleanor gasped, hastily rose, and was able to conquer her innate modesty enough to remove dress and slip. When Bella saw gorgeous bubbies in the tight white nylon bra and the plump pussy valve with its soft curls of dark-golden love-hair, she mentally licked her lips. Eleanor's parents had never believed in letting their daughter wear miniskirts or pantie-hose, so Eleanor's lusciously curved legs were sheathed in modest flesh-toned nylons, held up by a very narrow garterbelt. The golden-haired freshman hesitated now, blushing violently as she saw Bella's blue eyes lave her quivering charms. "I said peel, pledge, and I meant it! Take off the bra and the panties. You can keep your garterbelt and stockings, they won't get in the way," Bella commanded. Just to show Eleanor that she meant what she said, she walked over towards the mantelpiece and put her hand out towards the paddle resting on its top. Eleanor squealed, "Oh don't, I'll do it!" and reached behind her to unhook the bra and let it flutter to the floor. Then she promptly clamped her hands over her titties and turned away in sweet maidenly confusion.
"You're going to get ten on your tail, Ellie, unless those panties are off by the time I count to ten," her "Big Sister" domineeringly informed her. "One ... two ... three-"
Again Eleanor squealed in alarm, stooped and wriggled out of her panties, letting them festoon her ankles and stepped out of them. One of her hands immediately descended to cover her pussy and she stood there like September Morn, her eyes big and round and scared.
"Now get into bed this minute," was her temptress' next command. And since Bella was reaching for the paddle again Eleanor had no wish to challenge that kind of burning authority and scrambled over to the bed and flung herself down on it on her back.
Bella Carter smiled as she moved toward the bed, undressing as she came. Her slinky figure was bare except for charcoal-brown nylons and black satin-elastic garterbelt, as she scuffed off her pumps and clambered on the bed beside the quivering, blushing blonde freshman. "Now relax, I'm not going to hurt you. Put your arms around me and give me a nice hug and a kiss," she ordered.
She promptly crawled over Eleanor and stretched herself out over the girl's shivering naked body. Then her mouth covered Eleanor's, and the golden-haired neophyte uttered a muffled gasp as she felt Bella's cunt rub against hers, felt Bella's titties rasp their turgid buds against her own pouting, soft coral-tinted nipples.
Slowly Bella began to pussy rub, her slim long fingers fondling Eleanor's magnificent bubbies, her tongue expertly delving between Eleanor's lips until the eager virgin was shivering as with ague. Then suddenly she reversed herself and, plunging her head down between Eleanor's trembling thighs, hissed, "Kiss me and suck me you know where, and I'll do the same for you. Then see if you don't get hot!"
With this, she promptly set to work gamahuching the golden-haired naked freshman, and at the first touch of her tongue against Eleanor's clitoris, the latter squealed, drew up her knees and wriggled her bottom frenziedly, as she moaned, "Ohhh, what are you doing to me-oh my Lordie, it's just wonderful!"
"Didn't I tell you? Now shut up and get to work on me," Bella Carter commanded.
Eleanor put up no further argument. Half an hour later, she lay wan and ecstatic after having been drawn to three violent climaxes. Her "Big Sister" lay beside her, playing with Eleanor's pussyhairs while her other hand fondled one of those juicy bubbies, her lips brushing the poutingly turgid nipple. "You see, silly?" she cooed lovingly. "Now do you want to find out what it's like to be fucked by a boy?"
"Oh yes," Eleanor breathed, "but I'd just die of shame if a boy came in here now-"
"You really are a child of nature, aren't you Ellie? We don't need a boy. All we need is a good stiff dick, and I've got that in my drawer. You just lie there and get ready for it, I'll show you," Bella Carter purred.
And when she turned back from her dresser, the menacing dildo sticking out ahead of her loins as if she had suddenly been converted to the opposite sex, Eleanor lifted her head from the pillow and stared disbelievingly: "Oh where in the world did you ever find anything like that? Is it really-oh my goodness, it's too big, it'll kill me!"
"No it won't, stupid. Now I will spank you if you don't shut up and let me do it to you. Here I come, ready or not! And I'm going to make you come too, you bitchy, bitchy-pussy little virgin you!" Bella Carter giggled.
It was a bit painful at the outset, because Eleanor Montrose's hymen was tight and resisted penetration. But a few energetic digs of the dildo, and the instrument was hilted in her tight warm sheath. To make things even more interesting for his passionate and amoral niece, her uncle had managed to purchase a dildo which had whorls and ridges, and even a tiny little "French tickler" at the end. Once this tip delved to the very bottom of Eleanor Montrose's tender cunt, the golden-haired freshman bucked and twisted and wriggled, scratched and clawed and kissed her "Big Sister" frenziedly.
It was going to be a very interesting semester for them both, Bella Carter thought. She was going to have lots of fun initiating little Ellie into other uses for the dildo. Especially on the initiation night during "Hell Week," when Ellie's tender big bottom would be burning hot. That was when a dildo felt the best going in the back door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was the third Friday in October and it was the beginning of "Hell Week' at Delta Gamma Phi. In the month that had gone by, and despite the rule laid down by Beverly and Madge that no freshman pledge was to be drawn into any sexual relationship until the official opening of initiation ceremonies, several of the most powerful and influential sorority sisters had already cemented their illicit liaisons with the helpless, dominated freshman girls. Lucy Daniels was still the bedbitch of domineering Trude Jordan and Dorothy Purcell, conversely, was passionately and slavishly in love with the haughty silver-blone treasurer Brenda Torrence.
Elaine Horton, had suffered the paddle two more times from her "Big Sister" Beverly Wilson, but by way of compensation had had two weekend dates with Chuck Warner and found him extremely appealing. Because all pledges were sworn to secrecy on the secret ceremonials and their own maid-slave relationships with their sponsors at Delta Gamma Phi, Elaine had adhered to the code and not told Chuck how Beverly had humiliated her, made her a toady and errand girl and paddled her. The last time had only been three nights before "Hell Week," over a thinly disguised pretext that Elaine hadn't tidied up the vice president's room efficiently enough. And Elaine had had to lower her panties and then bend down to grip her ankles for ten hard swats against her bare behind which had really made her cry. And Beverly had sarcastically reminded her, "If you're that tender, Horton, just wait until you go through the mill. You'd better rub some special salve on that big heinie of yours if you don't want the skin taken off!"
But now everything was in readiness, and whatever hopes and aspirations the six new freshman pledges secretly yearned for were all driven out of their minds as they were led, blindfolded, wrists tied behind their back with towels, into a little closet just off the huge basement recreation room of the sorority house where the initiation ceremonials were to take place.
It was eight-thirty in the evening, and promptly at five, Beverly Wilson had herded all six of them together and had them eat out in the kitchen at the back of the first floor. She had mocked them and added to their suspense with such comments as "Better eat hearty, so you'll have your strength for tonight, girls," and "At the same time, don't over-eat, we'll have something special ready for you on our menu!"
And then, to their individual shame and dismay, she had ordered them to her room to put on special costumes which had to be worn during the initiation. They were old-fashioned middy blouses, with huge flapping collars, even more old-fashioned blue cotton bloomers with very thick elastic waistbands as well as legs with the same sewn-in elastic bands to fit just above their knees, tiny blue bobby socks and sneakers. There would be no bras or panties, panti-girdles or stockings tonight, she had ordained.
Then, locking them in the closet about forty minutes before the initiation was to begin, she gave them a last terrifying reminder: "Any pledge who can't go through with the initiation will at once be blackballed out of Delta Gamma Phi, just you all remember that. And when we blackball a pledge, she has to go through the mill three times just to remind her forever of her shame and cowardice. So if you think you can't do it, just remind yourselves of what three tips through the mill with paddles landing on your bare hind ends will feel like. Well, keep a stiff upper lip and I'll be back for you when we're ready for you all."
Margie Stanwyk, Eleanor Montrose and Lucy Daniels had begun to sniffle fearfully, but Lorna Yerkes bit her lips and seethed inwardly with moody anger over this injustice. Lorna had had several dates with Bud Bradbury, and she knew more than ever before that she was going to be everything to him. She only wished she could be out on a date with him tonight being fucked instead of having to be spanked and humiliated and to wear a silly, childish outfit like this.
Lucy Daniels was sniffling too, thinking of Jack Sturdevant and how much she would need him to console her when this terrible ordeal was over.
Elaine was blushing at the thought of having to be degraded and put through her paces like a puppet and doubtless well paddled to see if she would break down and cry for mercy. She told herself she was going to take everything they could dish out, no matter what.
Of this sextet, only Dorothy Purcell was quivering with sensual, excited anticipation. She couldn't wait until they started paddling her, and she hoped they'd make her pull her bloomers down and get it on the bare tail. Brenda Torrence had taught her how thrilling a good sound thrashing on the bare could be, especially if it was followed by a dildo-fucking or maybe a tickler-frigging. She was just dying to have Brenda gamahuch her, but the haughty silver-blonde treasurer didn't care to submit to a mere pledge so intimately; however, she had often made Dorothy gam her, especially after a good hard spanking with the hairbrush or her gloved hand.
And so, each girl in her own way, according to her own temperament, nervously awaited the fateful moment when she would be sent up before her august peers....
Chuck Warner, Bud Bradbury and Jack Strutevant were fated to meet this evening at Denby's, each of them going his individual way to enjoy an evening snack. Chuck was thinking about Elaine, how in spite of her youth, she appealed more to him, more than many older girls and how he really wanted to screw her. Not only that, he even found himself thinking of marrying her so he could get pussy regularly. He was having a hamburger, that needed more salt. He looked around and the nearest saltcellar he could see was over two counter stools away and a tall, lanky, brown-haired freshman was sitting there pensively sipping a malt and looking out into space.
"Hey, frosh." he called pleasantly, "mind passing the salt along this way?"
"Sure. Here. Nice night, isn't it?"
"Terrific, nice and nippy, but not damp at all. How do you like Northeastern?"
Bud Bradbury grinned likeably. "Terrific. Especially now that I've found myself a cute chick I used to know back in my home town."
"That so? Move over here and let's talk about chicks. I'm in the mood myself. I've got a date with a gal but she won't be able to keep it. Seems as if she's getting initiated tonight."
"That's funny, so is mine," Bud Bradbury confided.
In a few minutes they were talking about Delta Gamma Phi when Jack Sturtevant walked in. He occupied the stool which Bud Bradbury formerly had and he, too, wanted salt. And that was how fate got these three virile young males together on a night that was going to change not only their lives but those of their girl friends....
All forty-two members of Delta Gamma Phi were present for this, the long-awaited night of subjugation and slavery for the six delicious neophytes who would have to endure cruel ordeals of humiliation, pain and degradation before they would be accepted as bonafide members of this selective group. There was a low table at the very end of the room at which Madge Trenton and Beverly Wilson sat, in their official capacities as president and vice president respectively. There was huge president respectively. There was a huge porcelain pan filled with spaghetti for the ancient "worms" trick; a glass punchbowl containing a nauseating concoction consisting of tomato juice, raw oysters, red pepper, stale mayonnaise, some raw gin and at least a dozen raw eggs, some of which were not of the freshest vintage. There was also a cake of ice in a steel tray, and an ice pick beside it. The slivers of ice chipped off could be pressed against a girl's bare titties, when she was blind-folded, with the threat of cutting her with a knife. It was one of the oldest tricks in the sorority book, and never failed to work. The impressionability of a young girl when blindfolded and in scanty attire knowing that she is about to be subjected to "the works," never fails to intensify her emotions and produce the most delightful reactions for the sadistic sorority members. And Delta Gamma Phi girls were even more sadistic than most, as we well know.
Bella Carter was to be sergeant-at-arms for the ceremonies. All of the girls with the exception of the two at the table, wore black silk gowns and the mortarboard hats which one sees at graduation time, and high heeled pumps, Otherwise, they were stark naked. Brenda and Madge wore red robes and red hats, and they too were quiveringly nude under the clinging robes.
But there was actually one other participant tonight, one who was not a member of the sorority but its chaperone: Mrs. Noreen Grange. She had come to Madge Trenton this noon with a perfectly fantastic scheme, that had been so exciting and novel that Madge had at last reluctantly agreed to let the housemother take part. But it would be done at the very conclusion of the ceremonials. And it would be done in such a way that no one could ever discover the identity of Mrs. Noreen Grange. It would be reserved for none other than Elaine Horton, because the housemother had seen the lovely dark, brown-haired freshman and lusted for her. There was something else too; since Elaine was officially the property of Beverly Wilson, her "Big Sister," Madge was only too happy to play a trick on her subordinate who had very often questioned her authority and who had dared try to blackmail her about her own secret, pussy-rubbing affair with Noreen Grange.
Two tall red candles were placed on each end of the table and lit by Trude Jordan to signify the official opening of "Hell Week." What it meant to the Delta Gamma Phi girls was that starting tonight, with the official initiation of the six freshmen pledges, these girls would for an entire seven days and seven nights "get the works," from the most demeaning orders to act as flunkies and errand girls, to frequent paddling, impossible assignments, and finally, all the pussy-rubbing and gamming they could be compelled to perform upon their "Big Sisters" and also any other member of the sorority who had the hots for their particular charms.
And just to make certain that the pledges wouldn't go squealing to the Dean of Women, Madge Trenton had indulged freely in her special hobby, that of being an expert moviemaker. She had some of the finest equipment money could buy, since her family was well heeled, and she had installed a hidden camera in the recreation room which would record visually and sonically all of the proceedings. There would also be Polaroids in some of the guest rooms of the house to which the various pledges would be taken after their initiation to prove their total obedience to their "Big Sisters," and pictures would be taken of these acts of compliance. They would make excellent blackmail weapons should any of the freshman pledges be silly enough to want to tell the authorities what would go on here tonight and for the rest of "Hell Week."
"Let's get things underway, girls. Bella, bring in Eleanor Montrose. She's your protege, isn't she?"
"Yes, Madame President," the coppery-haired junior smilingly replied. "She's a very good girl, somewhat naive, but I think she'll make a good DGP girl."
"We'll see, Bella. Anyway, we've already had your good reports on her so she'll have to prove herself. Bring her in."
"Might I suggest, Madame President, that once through the mill should be enough for Ellie," Bella deferentially suggested.
"I'll take that under advisement," Madge Trenton belligerently snapped. "Now bring her in!"
Thus rebuked, Bella flushed, lowered her eyes and left the basement recreation room. She went to the closet in which the six freshmen pledges had been incarcerated, unlocked the door and called softly," Ellie, they want you first." Then, raising her voice a little, she informed the other girls, "Just be patient. You'll be called up in the order the sisters want you. Come along, Ellie."
Blindfolded Eleanor Montrose, utterly adorable in the old-fashioned middy blouse and bloomers, bobby socks and sneakers, her hands still tied behind her back with the towel and blindfolded with a black silk bandana tightly knotted at the back of her head, groped her way forward while Bella gently reached in to grasp her by the shoulders and draw her out of the dark closet which she promptly closed and locked.
"What-what are they going to do to me, do you know?" the golden-haired freshman nervously quivered, her face anxious, her lips trembling.
"Now don't be afraid, sweetie. It'll be just a good little spanking. It won't be much, I've told them what a good girl you are. And you are, aren't you? When this is over tonight, I'm going to take you upstairs to a special room and make you cream and all that sweet juice in your pussy. So try to be a brave little girl and I'll really love you up good when it's all over. Would you do that for me, Ellie dear?" Her left hand gently and slyly stroked Eleanor Montrose's voluptuous ripe bottom, which the old-fashioned bloomers almost lasciviously shaped out, and Eleanor blushed and gasped, "I-I'll try awfully hard, B-Bella."
"Shhhh, you naughty girl, you," Bella Carter hissed, giving Eleanor's bottom an insidious little pinch which made the pretty blindfolded freshman squeal and squirm. "Don't you dare call me that in front of all the girls, or they'll spank you good and hard. You're supposed to say Madame Big Sister, every time and don't you ever forget it. Now come along, dear."
When Eleanor Montrose was pushed forward by Bella Carter into the huge basement recreation room of the sorority house, a simultaneous gasp of admiration rising from all the waiting girls made the golden-haired pledge stop dead still and begin to tremble in her anxiety of what awaited her. But Bella, her left hand on Eleanor's bound wrists and her other hand against the girl's shoulderblades, whispered, "March forward until you are told to wait, and then do whatever's ordered of you, pledge!"
With this, she gave her protege a little push and Eleanor Montrose stumbled onward, between the facing rows of sorority members in their black gowns, all of them brandishing their oval shaped or rectangular shaped punishment paddles. Their eyes glistened with anticipation, for the blonde pledges bloomers left no doubt whatsoever as to the magnificent opulence of her bound and helplessly blindfolded in this juvenile costume seemed to augment their latent sadism; psychiatrists have long held that women are crueler to one another than men are to women, and perhaps if they had been present at this Delta Gamma Phi initiation, their theories would more than have been justified.
"Halt! Kneel down!" Madge Trenton's arrogant voice rose, and Eleanor Montrose, with a feverish little cry, slowly sank down on her knees and waited, her heart pounding rapidly.
"Pledge Montrose, you are on the threshold of seeking admission by your peers to the most select and discriminatory group on campus. Your Big Sister judges you worthy, but it is for us, your betters now, perhaps your equals later, to pass the final word. First, do you swear that no word of what takes place tonight and for the rest of this week will ever pass you lips outside the boundaries of this house?"
"Y-yes, I do," Eleanor Montrose stammered. Madge Trenton made a sign and Liz Tolson, a lanky, athletic junior with glasses and a pair of big round titties that belied her slender waist and boyish bottom, stepped forward and promptly dealt poor unsuspecting Eleanor Montrose a stinging thwack with her paddle over the plumpest curves of that juicy hind end.
"Oww, oh please don't!" Eleanor squealed, bursting into tears and clapping her hands to the wounded parts, which she began to rub energetically.
"You are to call me Madame President, you lowly frosh!" Madge angrily declared. "Now say it again. Do you swear?"
"Y-yes, M-Madame P-President," the blonde freshman tearfully stammered.
"Very good. And now do you swear to accept courageously and without question whatever ordeal and trial of courage we, your betters now, may put you to?"
Once again the pledge repeated her affirmation.
"Prepare her for the test of facing the unknown." Madge Trenton decreed.
Liz Tolson promptly left her rank, and moving behind the still kneeling girl, untied her wrists and whispered to her to stand up. When this was done, Liz promptly drew off Eleanor's sneakers and socks and then steered her towards the huge pan with its moist spaghetti, which of course would be "live worms" into which she would be obliged to step.
She ordered Eleanor to raise one foot and then advance it and then the other, and so Eleanor Mont rose stepped gingerly into the pan, only to let out a cry, "Ohhhh, what is it? Oh it's all wet and sticky-ugh-please, what is it?"
"Worms!" Liz intoned in a solemn voice that had the members fighting to hide their giggles.
The pledge tried to scramble out, but Liz held her by the waist and hissed, "You have to stay there until the president herself tells you to step out or you're disqualified!"
And thus for two agonizingly long minutes, Eleanor was obliged to stand barefooted in the pan, lifting one foot and then the other and pleading brokenly for mercy, amid the jeers and taunts of the sorority girls. Then Liz helped her step out of the pan and led her stumbling and still sobbing, towards the next ordeal. Two junior girls stepped out of the nearest rank and promptly removed Eleanor's middy blouse. "Don't strip me naked, please don't," Eleanor wailed, trying to cover her titties with her hands. The girls feasted their eyes on the luscious globes, panting and swelling so exuberantly and several of the most determined Lesbians there determined that they would take advantage of "Hell Week" by ordering this golden-haired freshman to their beds as quickly as possible once she had been installed as an accepted member of DGP now.
They held her arms behind her back, and then Madge Trenton called, "Now then, Pledge Montrose, it's time for the test of faith! If we permit you to enter our august ranks, do you swear that not even torture will draw from you our deepest secrets?"
"You shall prove your courage. The knife!" Madge called.
Once again Liz Tolson acted as mistress of ceremonies. Stepping over to the block of ice and taking the ice pick, she hacked off a long pointed sliver, examined it and then nodded with satisfaction. This done, she approached Eleanor again, who had begun to breath quickly and nervously, whimpering a little as the silence grew. And then suddenly she felt the cold sliver laid across her left tittie, pressing against her nipple.
"Owweee! Oh take it away, oh don't cut me, don't cut me! I won't tell, I swear I won't! Oh I'm scared, please take that awful knife away!" Her voice rose to a frantic shriek and she jerked and twisted at her captors' grasp.
Finally, she was asked this ritualistic and Lesbian question: "Pledge Montrose, finally, before we put you to the test of endurance, do you swear like all of us, to devote your life at this sorority to pleasing those of your own sex and to holding yourself back from boys simply because they are boys?"
Once again Eleanor Montrose answered in the affirmative. But what she did not know-although Bella Carter had instructed her to say yes to that question-was that it implied that she would henceforth be more interested in pussy-rubbing than in fucking-unless, to be sure, fucking was done with a dildo worn by one of her sweet sisters in this erotic cult.
"Now then, Pledge Montrose," Madge Trenton commanded, "Get on all fours. You are going to crawl forward to the very end of this double line. Failure to complete it will automatically disqualify you. If you don't show sufficient courage you'll be asked to try it once again, and even more, until we are satisfied that you have proved all those attributes which we require of a lowly pledge. Get ready!"
Bella Carter now came forward and took the trembling blindfolded girl by the wrists and led her back to the end of the double line which began almost at the door of the basement recreation room. Madge and Beverly themselves took their places at the very front of the line and waited, facing each other, swinging their paddles and smiling with anticipation, "Now this is going to hurt a little, baby," Bella whispered to her charge, "But don't you fret, Mama'll make it up to you in bed tonight. I promise. I've got to take your bloomers down, honey."
"Oh no-oh please, let me keep them on, I'll be b-brave-but please don't strip me bare!" the half-nude golden-haired freshman whimpered.
"Shhh, baby, they'll get mad at you and make you go through the mill two or three times instead of just once. Now you do what I tell you to. Bow your head and stick your butt up. That's the girl. Now I'll just pull these down."
Suiting action to word, Bella Carter yanked the bloomers down to the tops of Eleanor's luscious ripe young thighs, and a murmur of admiration rose at once as the jutting, full-fleshed resilient soft-sheened rotundities were displayed in all their quivering and apprehensive succulence.
"Start crawling, pledge!" Madge Trenton called.
Eleanor Montrose shivered, drew a deep breath, and then bravely crawled forward. The first two girls instantly swung their paddles, one attacking the right globe, the other the left, and propelling the startled, wailing and practically naked girl (for all she had on now was the rucked-down bloomers which clung about her thighs and hampered her movements), exactly as had been planned so as to prolong the paddling ceremony.
Her wails and tears excited the eager girls, and as she scrambled forward, sobbing and protesting, the Crack-Thwack, Thwack, Smack of the springy implements landing on her bare behind grew more the girls halted her by straddling over her back and clutching her sides with their calves, so that they could get in an extra swat or two.
By the time she reached the end of the line, Eleanor Montrose's naked bottom was vividly inflamed and angrily swollen, and she was crying hysterically and rubbing it like mad.
But they had no rancor for her, and so after a vote, it was decided that her part of the initiation was over. She was led back to another closet and locked in there, with her bloomers completely removed, and thus she was a stark-naked concubine, intended for the lust of her "equals" this night of nights!
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next girl called was Margie Stanwyk, the olive-skinned, black-haired, green-eyed freshman whom Jane Allen had dildo-fucked and dominated. Jane was ordered to prepare her protege for the ordeal, after Bella Carter had brought her in from the main closet, "Now you play it real smart, Margie, or you'll have me to deal with," Jane whisperingly warned as she untied Margie's wrists. "Don't you dare take off that blindfold. You're automatically disqualified if you do. Now you're going to get a little spanking, but you better not be a crybaby and try to get out of it, or you'll get disqualified and you know what that means. Later on, I'll take good care of you and make you forget your burning heinie. Now get with it, kid!"
Jane then led her to the pan with the spaghetti
"worms" and Margie passed this test reasonably well, apart from a few squeals and gasps of "Ohh, what is it? What am I stepping on-it feels icky!" which elicited uproarious laughter from the sorority sisters. When she was commanded to pull off her middy blouse, she hesitated a little and blushed, but Jane hissed, "You better obey the president, or they'll really make it tough for you. How would you like to go through the mill three times back and forth?" Which at once decided the brunette to obey.
Then two girls held her arms behind her and Jane herself, licking her lips, taking a very long sliver of ice approached and brushed the cold substance against each of Margie's panting titties. But the reaction was hardly what she had expected. Margie shrieked and behaved like one demented, trying to twist herself loose, actually believing it was a knife, and cried out that she didn't want to join, that they were brutes to do things like this to helpless girls.
This so irritated Beverly Wilson and Madge Trenton that they unanimously voted two trips through the mill. Accordingly, forced down on all fours and with her bloomers tugged to her knee hollows, poor Margie was ordered to crawl through. But tearfully she refused, and as a result a dog collar was locked round her neck and it was Bella Carter herself who dragged on the leash and forced the unfortunate naked pledge to follow as best she could. As the first swats fell on Margie's upturned olive-skinned saucy bottom cheeks, she wailed and screamed, trying to scramble away, to cover up with her hands, but the order was given to bind her wrists behind her back and they halted the mill to do that. Now, dragged forward on her knees, jerking at her bound wrists, sobbing plaintively and crying out frantically when one of the paddles collided noisily with her flaming behind, poor Margie Stanwyk twisted and jerked and writhed, at last reaching the end of the line. They turned her round and made her go through again, and the paddles smacked more wickedly than ever. Her bottom was a dark red, swollen and throbbing with burning agony as she screamed and pleaded brokenly for mercy.
At last it was over, and she collapsed on her belly, her hands at last freed and plunging to her swollen rear end to rub and soothe it while the girls giggled and poked fun at her.
Jane Allen was incensed with her protege, and said as much as she made poor Margie get to her feet by pinching the girl's earlobe and hissed: "You just wait till I get you upstairs, you stupid little bitch! Everybody's laughing at me, not at you, because I was the one that brought you in here, and then you had to go and make a spectacle of yourself! Didn't you have brains enough to guess it wasn't a knife but ice, stupid? Oh, am I going to give it to you when we're alone tonight! Now come along." And Margie too was locked up with the already initiated Eleanor Montrose.
Lucy Daniels was next, and she bravely endured the worms and the knife, and Trude Jordan was kind enough to give her a grudgingly fair report, so that she only had to go through the mill once. But that was once too often as far as Lucy was concerned. Crawling along on all fours, plunging forward frantically as a particularly hard noisy swat with the paddle bit against her burning behind, she was disolved in tears by the time she had finished.
Lorna Yerkes was brought forth next, and Lorna acquitted herself reasonably well. Her "Big Sister" was none other than the haughty prexy of Delta Gamma Phi herself, and so Lorna knew very well that she had better make a good showing or all hell would really break loose this "Hell Week."
She went through the mill quickly, and managed to grind her teeth and suppress most of her cries. When she finished, her bottom was blazing and wriggling frantically, and she was rubbing like the others, but at least she hadn't begged for mercy. Madge was pleased with her and said so as Bella Carter led the naked girl back to share that closet with the still weeping Margie Stanwyk and Eleanor Montrose and Lucy Daniels.
Now it was the turn of Dorothy Purcell. Brenda Torrance had already informed the girls that Dorothy loved to be paddled and told them to lay it on real hard. Seeing the attractive light-brown-haired freshman stripped of her middy blouse and down only to her clinging tight bloomers, the girls eagerly gripped their paddles and waited for their chance. She whimpered and groaned when the sliver of ice was pressed against each of her titties, and then it was her time to crawl through the mill with her bloomers yanked down to her lower thighs.
As she approached the two waiting rows, the first two in line reached out and applied stinging swats, one to each bottom globe. Dorothy Purcell gasped, lifted her blindfolded face, and seemed to shiver, then she began to crawl but not at all rap idly. It was as if she wasn't trying to avoid a single swat, so that each girl in the two rows facing each other had ample time to take a deep breath, swing the paddle high and bring it down with full force on that upturned, temptingly naked, lusciously rounded bottom. She cried out, and pleaded and sobbed, and tears drenched her cheeks, but she didn't try to halt or twist away between the legs of any of the members, as many pledges had done the last term. When they finished with her, she crouched with her head bowed, her hands energetically rubbing her blazing bottom, and then, to their surprise, she gasped out tearfully, "Th-thank you, M-Madame President, for initiating me so hard, I want to be a good pledge and obey all of you!"
"That's a very nice attitude, dear," Madge Trenton beamed at her. "I'm sure you're a great credit to Brenda, your Big Sister. You may take her away, Brenda, and you don't have to lock her in the closet. Just leave a little free time for her, because a few of us would like to get to know her better-if you know what we mean."
A ripple of giggles and salacious laughter ran through the paddle lines at this obvious allusion to pussy rubbing and gamming. Brenda, an arm around the sobbing girl's waist, her other hand cupping one of Dorothy's titties, crooned into her ear words of praise and endearments and led her out of the room.
And now it was the turn of Elaine Horton, for whom Beverly Wilson had planned a particular revenge because she considered the courageous freshman much too snotty.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
One can imagine Elaine Horton's mounting suspense as one by one, her five companions had been summoned forth to their initiation ordeal until at last she found herself completely alone in the dark closet, blindfolded with her wrists tied with a towel behind her back. So that when the door opened and Bella Carter reached out and took ahold of her, she uttered a faint cry of alarm: "Ohh-what-what is it?"
"It's your time, baby doll," the coppery-haired junior smirked, "we've been saving everything for you. The other pledges are taken care of, and now you're really going to get it. I don't think our darling vice president Bev Wilson likes your guts one little bit. Too bad for you, honey. Personally, I think you're a nice kid, and you've sure got a shape, but it's none of my business. Come along now!"
"Please-can-can you tell me what to prepare myself for?" Elaine quavered.
"Don't be stupid, frosh! Why give the show away? The only thing I will tip you off on, though, is that your hind end is sure going to be awfully hot before the night's over. Now no more talk and don't forget you're to kneel down and answer all the questions with a nice polite and humble 'Yes, Madame President.' Got that?"
The blindfolded pledge trembled as she heard the buzz of voices the moment she entered the basement recreation room, and knew that she was at last at the moment of the painful hazing which she felt sure that vindictive Beverly Wilson had planned for her. Made to advance by herself halfway down the double line of paddlers, she was halted by Marge Trenton, ordered to kneel, and asked the ritualistic questions which all the other pledges had had to answer. To these she gave affirmative meek replies, but inwardly her spirited young nature was seething with indignation. She knew now that her mother had obviously known nothing of what Delta Gamma Phi was today, perhaps remembering only in a very romanticized version her own happier collegiate days. Because she was certain that all the vicious undercurrents of sex behind closed doors and girls together with girls-which some of the sorority sisters had openly talked about in her very presence and at times when they had visited her "Big Sister's" room-couldn't possibly have taken place in those earlier days.
Bella Carter lifted her to her feet, taking her by an earlobe, at an angry gesture from the vice president, and marched her to the tub of worms. Her feet bared, she was ordered to step onto the tub, which she did promptly. But as she rather guessed that they weren't real worms, she gave the eager and sadistic sorority girls no pleasure whatsoever in her passive acceptance of what she had been told to do. Then, as she was ordered to unfasten her own middy blouse and take it off and drop it on the floor, so that she was naked except for her bloomers, she did so with a sort of proud defiance, tilting back her head and thrusting out the magnificent gourds of her milky-sheened titties.
"You seem to be such a showoff, Horton," Beverly Wilson now spoke up with a sarcastic drawl to her voice, "that we're going to let you take your bloomers completely off. You're going to be the star in this little show, Horton. Take them off and let's see all you've got!"
Elaine Horton hesitated, clenching her fists in an instinctive reflex of revolt. But wisdom told her that to defy all these girls would be dangerous and that she could ruin her chances for acceptance. She had endured a great deal so far, and it would all be wasted if she were blackballed now. So, her cheeks flaming, lowering her head, she began to unfasten the bloomers and tug them down. As the thick dark tufts of pussyhair came into view, and the dimpled milky belly and the lovely rounded thighs, murmurs of admiration rose from the eager witnesses who stood in the two paddle lines and brandished their implements impatiently. Here was one of the most delectable behinds ever to be offered up to their spanking hands.
"You'd make a good stripteaser," Beverly Wilson again lashed her pledge with the whip of verbal contempt. "Well, we're going to make you do a very sexy dance. Get down on all fours and start crawling. And keep that big bottom of yours nicely up. I told you what was going to happen if you acted snotty to me, and you have ever since the semester began. Maybe I purposely held back from taking you over my lap the way you ought to have been done with a couple of times, because I knew we could catch up with you tonight. You're going through the mill backwards and forwards. And if we don't like your attitude then, Horton, you'll go through again. Now start crawling!"
Elaine Horton sank down slowly to all fours, took a deep breath, and compressed her lips and clenched her teeth. She was determined to endure the shamefully unjust ordeal without flinching. But when the first two paddles smacked angrily against the upper summits of her behind, both at the same time and leaving bright pink oval splotches on the pure milky epidermis, she uttered a groan and tried to scramble forward. It was true that she wasn't hampered by a pair of tugged-down bloomers, the way the other five pledges had been. But the girls were waiting for her, and because she was blindfolded, she couldn't dodge them successfully. Even as she quickened her gait through the paddle line, the smacks rang out crisply and angrily, and her sobs and groans were interspersed with the characteristically sonorous Smack! Thwack-Whack-Smackkk! of pinewood applicators making burning impact with girlish bare bottom flesh.
Marge and Beverly were at the very end of that line and each of them delivered a last resounding swat which covered an entire buttock as Elaine Horton, sobbing uncontrollably, finally scram bled past them. She uttered a piercing cry, straightened up and clapped her hands behind her and began to rub her furiously crimsoned rear end.
"Turn around now and go back," Beverly angrily commanded.
"All r-right-but please-ohhhh-give me a m-minute to rest, please," she heard herself tearfully faltering.
"No soap, Horton!" her tormentress gloatingly countered. "If you don't start going now, Madge and I will tie you down over a spanking stool and let each one of the girls including ourselves take three good swats at your big backside. That'll be a hundred and twenty-six spanks more. Of course, it'll save wear and tear on your knees, I'll give you that much. Well, what's your choice?"
Poor Elaine Horton turned around, still blindfolded, breathing quickly, tears streaking her flushed cheeks. Then, taking another deep shuddering breath, she began to scramble back whence she had come. Beverly and Madge, reaching out in backhanded style as if they were swatting a tennis ball by running backwards on their courts, promptly started her off with energetic spanks, each paddle's oval-shaped end biting wickedly over the ripest curve of her bottom cheek. Elaine Horton couldn't suppress a woeful cry which was torn from her, and she seemed to be propelled forward with a frantic scrambling pace which made all the girls giggle and jeer and call out ribald comments. Each of the girls in both facing lines applied the same sort of backhanded swat as her flaming angrily swollen bottom squirmingly moved forward beyond them. Her knees were chafed, she was losing her breath, and once she fell flat as a particularly wicked pair of swats crashed against the base of her burning, throbbing, pain-wracked posterior. A few stinging smacks over her upper thighs and bare seat made her scramble to her all-fours pose again amid new jeers and taunts, as she moved onward, swaying, unsteadily, exhausted, her body tortured by the furious heat that seemed to scorch her bottom and which had already painted it a blazing brick-red.
At last she reached the end of the line, and sprawled forward on her belly, rubbing her bottom feverishly and weeping uncontrollably. Beverly Wilson smiled with gloating satisfaction as she moved between the two lines towards the conquered naked brownette. "Now come along, Horton, we have a special treat for you. Don't worry about your bottom, we've worked something out that will make you forget it in short order! On your feet, unless you want to go through the mill again two more times!"
Elaine Horton staggered to her feet, sobbing heavily. Beverly Wilson gripped the girl's bound wrists with her left hand and urged Elaine out of the recreation room and on up the stairs and thence to the room of Mrs. Noreen Grange. For she and Madge Trenton had come to a tacit understanding just before the initiation. When Madge had intimated that the house-mother would be only too happy to help Beverly's resolve to take Elaine Horton down a couple of pegs, the vice president had listened and then enthusiastically approved of the plan.
But Beverly Wilson had her own reasons for being so cordial to her rival all of a sudden. She would just remember what was going to happened, and if ever Madge got a little too uppity, an anonymous letter could always be sent to the Dean of Women denouncing both Madge and Mrs. Grange. In the meantime, she wouldn't mind at all seeing that bitch Horton get hers. This was really going to be good.
She led the still blindfolded and still stark naked brownette up the stairs and down the hallway to Noreen Grange's private room, knocked at the door, and was admitted by Noreen herself. The house-mother had put on a man's suit coat and a shirt and bow tie, but her loins were naked and around them was strapped a massive flesh-colored dildo. She had arranged her sandy-colored hair in an extremely mannish bob, because tonight she was going to play the role of male.
"Here we are, Grange, all ready for you," Beverly Wilson exclaimed. "Get in there, Horton. She's just gone through the mill twice, Grange, so she's really hot, aren't you, Horton dear?"
Elaine Horton uttered a stifled tearful cry: "Who-who's in here? Oh, what are you going to do to me now? Haven't you done enough already?"
"That's gratitude for you," Beverly Wilson feigned a sigh of disappointment. "Here we get this little bitch all nice and hot so that she'll want to be loved up and forget that sore heinie of hers, and she has to know who it is. Look, frosh, you can't be choosy, not your first year in Northeastern, you'll take what you get, but we've really picked a stud for you. Help me get her on the bed, Grange."
Noreen Grange's eyes were glistening with lust, and her lips were wet and quivering. She seized one of Elaine's wrists while Beverly Wilson seized the other and the two women dragged the now really frightened freshman pledge to Noreen's mammoth double bed.
Everything was in readiness. Four sets of cords had been laid out, two at the head of the bed and two at the foot. They flung her down on her back, and Noreen, kneeling up, seized Elaine's right wrist, grabbed and made it fast round the slim wrist and then tied the other end to one of the posts at the head of the bed while Beverly Wilson was busy with Elaine's left ankle.
"Why are you tying me? Oh my God, what are you going to do to me? Stop it, I want to know who's in here with me! You said Grange-that's Mrs. Grange, isn't it? Oh please, you're the housemother, don't let them hurt me anymore!"
"Oh no it's not the house-mother, you-know-it-all snotty little bitch," Beverly Wilson sneered as she completed the fettering of Elaine's other ankle. "Noreen has a brother, or didn't you know that? No, I guess maybe you didn't. Grange, why don't you show our little doubting Thomasina that you're a boy and not a girl?"
"I'll be glad to," Noreen Grange affected a hoarse voice and Elaine Horton uttered a shriek of absolute consternation and shame: "Oh dear God-oh no-you can't do this, you can't! I'm a v-v-virgin! I'll tell the Dean, I swear I will! Untie me and let me go, or I'll go over and tell her right now!"
"You're really funny, you're a real card, Horton," Beverly Wilson began to doff her red silk gown and the mortarboard and stood naked in all her svelte brunette loveliness. Then she knelt up on the bed and began to pinch Elaine's calves and ankles. "Go ahead, wriggle that sore tail of yours all you like. Grange here is going to give you something else to feel in front in just a minute. Show her, lover!"
The house-mother, wearing the massive artificial prick, was crouching down on her knees between Elaine's straddled thighs. Planting her palms on either side of Elaine's feverishly squirming naked hips, she arched herself forward and the tip of the prick prodded the dark brown love curls of Elaine Horton's virgin cunthole.
"Ohhhh, noooo!!! For God's sake, don't do that to me, I'm a virgin, don't do it to me! You've got no right. You can't initiate anybody and do a terrible thing like this, please! Ohhh-noooo!!!" Elaine shrieked as she tried to jerk at her bound wrists, to kick her legs, but found herself helplessly spread-eagled and straddled to her fate.
"Well now, our uppity little virgin freshman pledge isn't exactly as pure as she pretends," Beverly Wilson sneered. "She knows what a prick is like, Grange. Let her feel it now. Well, Horton, when we get through with you we're going to take movies of it and if you go to see the Dean, you'll find yourself in a real pickle of trouble. Nobody's going to take your word, not when we show them how you screw with boys and think you can get away with it. I'll cook your goose for you if it's the last thing I do. Now go ahead and take that cherry, that is, if the little bitch has really got one!"
"Oh please don't-oh Mr. Grange, for God's sake, surely your sister doesn't know you're here in the sorority house-oh don't do it to me, please, I beg of you-oh no-it hurts-oh take it out of me-aiii-eowwwooouuuaaahrrr!!! Oh pleaasseee!!!
Elaine Horton's voice rose to a frenzied high pitched shriek as the house-mother crammed the dildo home, breaking through the hymeneal seal and hilting the artificial prick into the captive's distended cunthole. Elaine raised her head, sweat oozing down her thighs, her fingers clawing the air, and digging into her palms, as she tried to wriggle herself away from that probing harpoon which had profaned the sanctity of her maidenhead.
"Now go ahead and fuck her all you want, Grange," Beverly Wilson said huskily as she began to frig her pussy. "And I'm going to have Horton gam me, and then when you get done with her, Grange lover, I'll take her back through the mill again!"
With this she clambered onto the bed and, kneeling astride Elaine's tortured and blindfolded face, lowered her black muff of cunthair till it brushed the victim's trembling, panting mouth. "I said to gam me, Horton," she hissed. "If you don't, they'll take the skin off your ass downstairs. Do what I tell you to!"
She reached down and grasped Elaine's palpitating nipples with thumbs and fingers and gave them a cruel tweak. Elaine shrieked again in pain, writhing and squirming in her torment. Then Noreen Grange, her eyes glittering with lust, had slid her left hand under the belt which gusseted her and encircled her waist to fix the artificial cock snugly up against her, so as to resemble the actual weapon of the male in action. She began to frig her pussy as she now added to poor Elaine's torment by putting her right thumb and finger against Elaine's inner thighs, her belly or the side of one rounded luscious hip, or even slipping her right hand under the inflamed and still furiously hot naked bottom to pinch insidiously.
Under such torment, not even the most heroic girl could hold out long, and poor Elaine at last succumbed to end this multiple torture. Weeping bitterly, she at last pressed her trembling mouth against Beverly Wilson's cunthole, and the vice president of the sorority began to rub her muff feverishly back and forth over her pledge's mouth, instructing the victim with salacious directives: "Suck it good-mmm-that's nice-now stick your tongue all the way in-now see if you can find my little button-that's my clittie, Horton, and if you're a good sweet bitch, I'll have Grange play with yours and really make you gush your cream! Ahhh, more to the center, that's it, now rub your tongue all over the outside of my hole ... now go back to my clittie. Ohh, that's lovely-and now you can just kiss and suck and tongue me till I come while you get you're good fucking, you little snot nose!"
Noreen Grange by this time was wildly excited, thanks to her own self-frigging maneuver. She enjoyed pinching the sweating, sobbing, naked girl and most of all she enjoyed digging the dildo back and forth. Elaine Horton moaned and wept and pleaded for mercy, but Beverly only reached down again to her tender nipples and pinched them brutally, hissing, "I didn't tell you to stop gamming me yet, so get back to work or I'll pull them off!!"
And thus, abandoning herself, the virginal freshman who had joined this sorority only out of her mother's urging, found herself compelled to yield to two indomitable Lesbians, still believing that the one who was fucking her was in reality the "brother" of Mrs. Noreen Grange, house-mother to the exclusive sorority of Delta Gamma Phi....
In other guestrooms of the big sorority house, the five other initiates were being tutelaged in pussy rubbing and in gamming. Lucy Daniels and Lorna Yerkes were compelled first of all to submit to their own "Big Sisters" Trude Jordan and Madge Trenton herself. Several of the sorority sisters had followed Trude and Madge into their rooms to watch the fun and to participate in it as well. The tearful naked Lucy Daniels was ordered to stretch out over plump flaxen-haired Trude and do sixty-nine with her while several of the girls watched excitedly. And when she had satisfied Trude, she was compelled to take on four other girls in the same posture, while those who awaited their turn amused themselves by spanking and pinching her already livid, swollen naked ass.
Lorna had to kneel between Madge Trenton's straddled thighs, and while the sorority president stood with hands on hips looking down on the scarlet-faced (and equally red-bottomed) girl, poor Lorna licked and sucked and kissed pussy till at last the autocratic dominatress was drawn to come.
Margie Stanwyk too had first to service her "Big Sister" Jane Allen, and then a number of others who coveted the olive-satiny loveliness of her bare body and wanted to feel her nimble pink tongue slush into their itching quims.
Only Eleanor Montrose gave herself with the joy of a true masochist to coppery-haired Bella Carter. For her fiery, still painfully throbbing bottom roused in her the most servile humility and conquered passion. Though blushing scarlet to see other sorority girls enter the room and watch her mount Bella and begin to pussy rub while French-kissing her "Big Sister," she soon found in Bella's reciprocal embrace the fulfillment of all her cunny-needs, and a soothing of her well-paddled bottom thereby.
With Dorothy Purcell, even more a masochist than Eleanor, it was sheer heaven. Brenda, greatly pleased with the girl's compliance to her initiation, told her she might ask a favor, and Dorothy blushingly whispered, "Oh please, put on that thing and f-fuck me, dear Madame Treasurer!"
Dorothy got her wish. Half a dozen girls watched, panting, fondling one another, exchanging Lesbian kisses, as they stared entranced at Brenda's bed on which Dorothy lay, her knees drawn up to her titties, gripping her kne ehollows, while Brenda, an artificial dildo strapped to her loins, foraged deeply into her eager, moist young cunt. The other girls wanted to try it too, and Dorothy had to yield.
The orgy lasted almost till dawn, when at last the satiated girls called a halt and at last released their victims.
Elaine Horton was freed but not allowed to remove her blindfold, for her hands were immediately tied behind her back and Beverly Wilson led her out of Noreen Grange's chambers back to her own room where, under penalty of going through the mill again and then having to submit to at least half a dozen girls in pussy rubbing fashion, the shamed and degraded and suffering young freshman was forced to clamber on top Beverly's svelte body and pussy rub until the dominatress at last tasted the hot pleasure of a girl-creaming.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Feeling better, Horton?" Beverly Wilson, wearing just a bra and pantie-set and red leather high-heeled pumps, stood smirking down at Elaine Horton as the latter lay naked on her "Big Sister's" bed. It was nearly noon on Saturday, and the first memorable night of "Hell Week" had come to an orgastic and prolonged end.
After her violation by Noreen Grange's dildo, and having been forced to gamahuch Beverly, the naked young freshman had been taken to Beverly's room to spend the rest of the night. To make sure that the pledge wouldn't try to escape, Beverly had had Noreen help her with tying Elaine's wrists behind her back and keeping on the blindfold. Then, once installed in the vice president's bed, Elaine had been permitted to sleep but only until about dawn. The sultry black-haired Lesbian wakened her by mounting over her and beginning to pussy rub, gloatingly telling her new slave, "This is just a start for you, Horton. For a whole week, all us girls get to make you pledges drop your panties at a moment's notice, and a mere snap of our fingers, and don't you forget it. You better make up your mind to being a very good little bed-bitch, because otherwise I'm going to wear out a couple of paddles on your big tail. Now get with it."
Sickened by her own degradation and by her lack of courage which had made her yield to pain and thus participate however unwillingly, in this orgy, Elaine Horton had burst into tears. But they hadn't moved Beverly Wilson the least little bit. "You know," she quipped, "there's a saying about marriage that if the husband keeps his wife naked around the house all the time, she'll get pregnant and not get into any trouble. Of course you're not going to get preggie, Horton dear, but you are going to take down those panties every time I say so or else you'll be standing up for the rest of the term. Now let's catch up on some sleep. And I'll have some errands for you when we both wake up again."
And now the time had come this Saturday when the domineering, svelte brunette intended to exercise her full power over this probationary sorority sister whose acceptance at the Delta Gamma Phi depended entirely upon her subservience for the rest of the week. For there was one tricky clause which all DGP girls held out as a sort of Damoclean sword over their pledges: it wasn't enough to endure the agonies of the first night of "Hell Week," for a girl had to be humbly obedient for the next six days and nights, or else she could be blackballed and disgraced.
Elaine's cheeks flamed under the mocking scrutiny of the svelte brunette. "All r-right, I g-guess, M-Madame Vice President," she muttered dully.
"I'm glad to hear it, Horton. Do you think you could behave yourself if I untie you? And I don't think you'll need that blindfold any more. Here, we'll just remove it, there you are. Now you can look at your mistress and see how sexy she is. I can be nice to a bitch if she behaves herself, Horton, just you remember that." Beverly Wilson bent down, cupped Elaine's titties in her slim fingers, and bent her head and sucked each of the nipples. She didn't see Elaine's face contort with loathing, see the victim's eyes close. And she misinterpreted the freshman's convulsive shiver as a sign of innate voluptuousness. "You see, baby?" she purred, "Mama knows just what makes you tick. Now I'm going to untie your wrists and then you can get out of bed."
She did so and then gestured for the naked dark brown-haired girl to get out of bed. And she picked up her paddle just to enforce quick compliance with her orders. With a gasp, Elaine Horton slid her lovely legs to the floor and stood up, swaying unsteadily. There was a dull ache in her bottom from the ferocious paddling she had endured the night before, and her pussy twinged because of the dildo-fucking which had been perpetrated on her at the conclusion of her initiation.
"Turn around and let me see your ass," Beverly Wilson's voice was husky with desire. Elaine bit her lips, clenched her fists but docilely turned her back. The delectably rounded cheeks of her behind were discolored and livid, looking very swollen and sore. Beverly Wilson grimaced, because she wanted a nice smooth milky backside to whack when she felt in the mood. And it delighted her to humiliate this lovely naked freshman who, she felt instinctively had such an aversion to her. That was the best kind of pledge to have, a girl who would hate your guts every minute, but would know with a kind of dismal resignation that there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Oh, this term was going to be lots of fun!
"Go rub some cold cream on your heinie, Horton, and you might as well rub some into your pussy too. Does it still hurt from your fucking?"
"Y-yes, M-Madame Vice President."
"Well, don't look to me for sympathy, because you had it coming. If you hadn't been such a little snot nose, you and I could have had lots of fun and I'd have steered you through the initiation with only a quick-run through. Now go fix yourself up. Then you can get dressed and go over to Denby's and bring me back some brunch."
A little later, after Elaine had put her clothes back on under the watchful eye of her tormentress, Beverly Wilson added with a cunning little smile, "And if you're thinking about running over to the Dean's office, Horton, you'd better think twice. We took an awful lot of movies and Polaroids of you last night, and we can always send some back home to show what a naughty girl you are once you get away from your own homestead, you get me? It'll just be your word against ours, and we're pretty powerful on campus, in case you haven't thought about it any. Now get going and bring it back fast. You got the order."
Elaine inclined her head, murmured the respectful phrase of Beverly's title, and left the room.
When she got over to Denby's, her eyes were still puffed and swollen from her crying, and even the dousing of cold water hadn't really helped too much. She felt as if she had come to the very end of the world and she knew hopelessly that it was going to be hell for all this next week and maybe long after that. But the thought that those awful pictures could be sent to her mother and maybe all around campus made her tremble with shame. She just didn't know what to do. She wasn't a squealer by nature, and what they'd done to her last night had certainly been illegal. But she couldn't prove anything.
"You certainly look as if you'd lost your best friend, Laney," a pleasant male voice accosted her as she walked up to the counter to give the waitress Beverly's order. She turned, and her eyes widened. It was Chuck Warner.
"Oh-why, hello, Chuck. How are you?"
"I'm fine, but I don't think you are. I guess it was initiation night last night, hm?"
"Yes. I have to go now, my Big Sister is waiting for her brunch," Elaine said with a sigh.
"It's not ready yet. You come over here and sit down with me in this booth and have a cigarette and talk to me," he said grimly, taking her by the wrist.
"I really can't-please, Chuck-I-I don't want to talk about it. Anyhow, I'm not supposed to," she protested.
"Now listen here. I happened to meet a couple of other guys in here yesterday, and they have a couple of beefs of about the way those snotty Delta Gamma Phi girls are treating the pledges. Seems their sweet on a couple of them, whom you probably know. Lucy Daniels and Lorna Yerkes."
"Yes-I-I know them, Chuck. We were all in-initiated last night."
"I must say you don't look too happy to be a DGP girl, though. Now what's with it, Laney? You can trust me. If you'll pardon my saying so, you look like hell this morning. They must have given you a lousy time, you poor kid."
Taken aback by such unexpected sympathy and understanding, Elaine Horton broke down and began to cry. Chuck Warner was beside her in an instant, his arm around her waist, soothing her: "Now, take it easy, honey. I'm a heel, I am, to make you cry. Listen, if it'll make you feel any better, you can tell me. I'll keep it under my hat. Was it really tough?"
"You-you don't know, and the worst part of it is they took pictures of me and they said-if I blabbed, they'd even send them to my m-mother."
"That's a filthy trick," he snapped. "Listen, I'm a frat man myself, but we don't go in for hazing. That sort of nonsense ought to have been banned from campus years ago. I'll bet they paddled you."
Elaine felt her cheeks burning hot as she averted her eyes and nodded.
"And that's not all either, I'll bet. Come on, Laney, you've got a friend in me. If there's something wrong going on over at that house, there'll be a couple of interested people. Something like that will only give the college a bad name, and most of us came here to study and get a decent education and prepare ourselves for jobs. Now what the hell did they do to you last night?"
"Please don't ask me-I'm so ashamed-please, Chuck!"
"Let me guess. I've heard that some of those girls over there are dykes. Do you know what that means?"
"I-I think so. But please, don't let's talk about it."
"We're going to talk about it. Now you listen to me, Laney! I know that the rule is that a freshman has to do everything the Big Brother or the Big Sister wants or else. But when they force you to have dirty sex and they keep it underground like that, then they're really looking for trouble. Did they do that to you?"
"Chuck-you mustn't even think about such a thing-I feel so d-dirty-oh I'm so ashamed!" Again Elaine Horton began to weep, covering her face with her hands.
He patted her shoulder, "You poor kid! I think I'm going to have me a little talk with Jack Sturdevant and Bud Bradbury and a couple of other guys."
"Oh no! What-what are you going to do, Chuck? Please, you mustn't say a word to anybody that I even said anything was wrong-I-I-I-I well-they'd just paddle me awfully hard, and I still feel sort of uncomfortable-but that's all-"
"You're not a convincing liar, honey. And if it's of any value to you, I want to tell you that I'm nuts about you. But there'll be time for that later when we get this matter straightened out. You don't have to give me any details, and you're not going to get involved. Just nod your head if those dykes forced you to have sex with them."
Before she knew what she was doing, the lovely brown-haired freshman nodded; then she clapped her hand over her mouth and stared at him with frightened eyes.
"That's all right, baby, don't you think about it anymore. I've got a feeling you're not going to be mixed up with that screwy outfit very much longer," he said grimly. "Your order is about ready, so you better pick it up. I'll see you around campus, Laney honey."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was about ten o'clock at night, and the first Saturday of "Hell Week" had taken up where Friday night had left off.
All the pledges were in their "Big Sisters'" rooms starting their probationary bondage as Lesbian handmaidens. Elaine Horton had been ordered to strip naked and then ordered to put on bobby socks and sneakers and her middy blouse without the bloomers, and Beverly Wilson had mockingly tied a big blue ribbon bow in the girl's dark brown hair and then sat on the edge of the bed, clad in just her panties and fluffy blue mules, and inspected her greedily. She had very generously allowed Elaine to take a long nap that afternoon and herself had rubbed a soothing salve on the swollen bottom cheeks, but not without the taunting reminder, "I've got a personal interest in get ting that ass of your nice and white again, Horton. I love to see it jump and redden when my paddle smacks it. And you better remember that if you disobey just one tiny order for the rest of the week, till midnight of next Friday, you're going to be wishing you'd never been born!"
And then, just to show who was boss, she had commanded poor Elaine to pull down her panties, spread the cheeks of her butt and rub her tongue over her asshole. When Elaine had gagged and pleaded brokenly to be spared that, vicious perverse Beverly Wilson had wagged a reproving finger at her and hissed, "Just say no to anything I want, bitch, I'll call all the girls together and tonight you'll go through the mill five straight times and then some. And Grange's brother will screw you again, only he'll screw you in your brown hole and make you suck his cock and clean it afterwards. So you can have your choice."
And Elaine shuddering with nausea, had forced herself to apply what the French call a feuille de rose.
Madge Trenton was locking herself up with luscious Lorna Yerkes, while Trude Jordan was enjoying her triumph over timid Lucy Daniels. Margy Stanwyk and Jane Allen were pussy rubbing as the clock chimed ten over the mantelpiece of Jane's lavishly furnished room. And Dorothy Purcell, perhaps the only true masochist of the lot, was lying blindfolded with her waists bound behind her back over Brenda Torrance's lap, while the perverse treasurer yanked at her hair with one hand and spanked her bottom with the right which was encased in a leather glove.
Eleanor Montrose and Bella Carter were under the sheets, too, and Bella was taking the aggressive man-on-top position, working into golden-haired Eleanor's quim with a dildo while she ordered the squirming and gasping naked young freshman to goose her with one hand and to play with one of her titties with the other so as to arouse her to pitch.
As for Noreen Grange, last night's thrilling episode with Elaine Horton had stirred the flaxen-haired house-mother to her fullest sadistic tendencies, and she had determined to go to Beverly Wilson and demand another dildo-fucking bout with the dark brown-haired freshman. If need be, she would even permit Beverly to come back to her bed and Kick Marge out, for she infinitely preferred lovely milky-skinned Elaine's body to Madge's pledge Lorna Yerkes.
She had put on a green dressing gown over her white silk slip, and her slippers, and was going down the stairs to the big refrigerator in the kitchen at the back of the first floor to get herself a tasty snack when suddenly the doorbell rang.
"Now who could that be this time of night?" she asked herself, half-aloud. Then, shortly, she added, "Maybe it's a special delivery letter for one of the girls."
It was special delivery all right, but it wasn't a letter. It was a contingent of about ten males, including Chuck Warner, Bud Bradbury and Jack Sturdevant, and they had blood in their eyes.
"What's the meaning of this?" Noreen Grange indignantly demanded, drawing herself up in all her imperious beauty. "Don't you know that sorority houses are off limits? You better get back where you belong or I'll call the Dean!"
"You just do that, Mrs. Grange," Chuck Warner growled as he seized her wrist and twisted it behind her back. "I'll have something to tell the Dean myself and so will Jack and Bud here about how freshman pledges get hazed in Delta Gamma Phi. Where's your brother, Mrs. Grange?"
For poor Elaine Horton, despite her resolve not to betray the secrets of the sorority house, had been so upset when Chuck had talked to her that she had finally broken down and confessed-though swearing him to silence-what had happened to her. She had told him that she'd been tied down on the bed and that Mrs. Grange's brother had raped her and then they'd taken pictures of her and of the other girls to keep them quiet about what was happening. But she was so ashamed, and she wasn't that kind of a girl at all, and she didn't know what to do and she didn't want to be a slave anymore. And that was why Chuck Warner had called a council of war and was now here to exact full atonement on behalf of the girl whom he had decided was going to be his steady bed partner.
"You must be out of your mind, I don't have a brother," Noreen Grange gasped. Then she suddenly went very red in the face and her eyes widened as she realized the meaning of the question and the still greater and fatal meaning of how she had answered it. "Who told you that?"
"A certain party that got herself fucked last night, fucked by a man supposedly, Mrs. Grange, when there aren't supposed to be any men in the sorority house, remember?" Chuck Warner sarcastically countered. "Now if you don't want us to peel off all your clothes and really work you over, Mrs. Grange-and don't think we aren't in the mood to do it!-you'll tell us who ran this cute little hazing session last night. I want to know who is responsible for all this Hell Week crap!"
Thinking only to save herself, Noreen Grange began to blubber and to wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing gown. "I didn't have a thing to do with it, honest I didn't, it was Beverly Wilson and Madge Trenton, the President and the Vice President, they planned it all," she groaned.
"You're lily-white, I'm sure," Chuck smirked as he winked at his cronies. "Only if Elaine got fucked, and she said she got fucked by a Mr. Grange, and there isn't any Mr. Grange, I just wonder if it mightn't be you."
"What are you talking about? You must be insane!" Noreen Grange stammered, growing very pale.
"You dirty dyke, you're just a bull dagger," he sneered, "I've a pretty good idea how Elaine got it. Probably an artificial cock you strapped on and poked into her. Kenny, go on upstairs to this bitch's room and search it and see if you don't find something like that. You know what a dildo is, it looks like a prick and it's got some sort of belt that straps on so a girl can ball another girl."
Ken Hasmer, a tall, sturdy junior on the college football team, nodded and chuckled, "I'll find it if there is one," and then bounded upstairs.
"What-what are you going to do?" Noreen Grange quavered.
"First of all, tie you up and gag you so you can't sound any alarm. Now where was this hazing session held?" Chuck Warner demanded, giving Noreen Grange's arm a persuasive yank.
"Oww, oh please let me go, you're hurting me! In
-in-the basement recreation room-but I swear I wasn't there-"
"I found it," Ken Hasmer crowed as he hurried back downstairs, brandishing the artificial prick. Noreen Grange put her hands to her face, bowed her head and began to weep hysterically. Chuck Warner gave her a shove towards two of the waiting boys: "Take her down there, tie her, gag her and peel off her clothes. She's going to get a taste of her own medicine. Now you, Jack, and you Bud, and about three other of you guys, come along with me. We're going to find the ringleaders of this little bunch of dykes!"
Two of the boys seized Noreen Grange as she screamed, one of them clapping his hand over her mouth while the two of them hustled her down to the basement recreation room, where, finding the spanking stool, they promptly ripped off her dressing gown and slip, bent her down across it, then buckled her wrists and ankles with the heavy leather straps. One of the boys ripped her slip to make an improvised gag, thrusting a piece into her mouth and then using still another strip to wind over her mouth and knot at the back of her neck. Her face scarlet with mortification, crying and struggling, she remained tied down to await retribution while her two captors stationed themselves at the door of the sorority house so that no one could get out without their say-so.
Chuck, Jack and Bud hurried up to the second floor in search of Beverly and Madge, and began to hammer on the door. Brenda Torrance the silver blonde dominatress who was in the process of spanking and frigging lovely masochistic Dorothy Purcell, heard the uproar and shoved her love slave off her lap and panted, "We better get dressed and see what's going on, lover!"
There was a banging at her door, and she hurriedly slipped on a robe, Dorothy scrambled into the closet and pulled the door shut, almost fainting with terror. When Brenda unlocked the door, she uttered a shriek to see boys grinning at her and tried to recoil, but one of them grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out into the hall.
"Here's a real sexy bitch," Ken Hasmer chuckled. "This has got to be the treasurer. I wonder where she keeps her money, stuck up her ass or up her cunt? Well, we'll find out. Take her along downstairs to the basement and tie her up good."
"You let go of me, you filthy beasts! Stop it-you'll all be expelled for this-you'll go to jail-oww!" Brenda suddenly yelled as one of the boys ripped off her robe and then delivered an open-handed spank to her naked bottom. Amid roars of laughter she was forced down the hall, the other boys grabbing a free feel as her captors forced her down the stairs.
In a few minutes she found herself gagged and bound hand and foot and lying on the couch, and then the vengeance-minded boys went back upstairs.
Madge Trenton had been girl fucking with Lorna Yerkes, when she heard pounding on the doors and the shouts of boys' voices. Bidding Lorna hide in the bathroom, she put on a robe, opened the door, only to be seized by Chuck and Bud. They clapped their hands over her mouth, doubled her wrists behind her back and forced her down the stairs to join Brenda and Noreen, while Jack Sturdevant and another boy seized Beverly Wilson just as she was about to go to the bathroom. Poor Elaine uttered a shriek of embarrassment and shame, tugged the covers up over her and began to cry hysterically.
"So you're the broad that's been giving Chuck's girl friend a hard time are you, bitch?" Jack Sturdevant snapped as he pulled black-haired naked Beverly out into the hall. She too was hustled down to the basement recreation room. Meanwhile, Bud and Jack had recognized their girl friends, Lucy and Lorna, urged them to put on their clothes and come down and watch the fun and take part in it. Trude Jordan, wearing only a slip, and forcing her lovely slave Lucy to crawl to her, put her head under Trade's slip and gam her, had been surprised in the very act and had no defense at all to offer the avenging males.
And so she too joined the others.
The other boys told the frightened sorority girls to stay in their rooms not let a peep out of them or they'd get the same treatment that was going to be meted out the ringleaders of this dyke society.
They returned to the basement recreation room, closed and locked the door behind them, and then Chuck Warner spoke his piece: "We found enough evidence around her to get you all sent to jail, and I've just found a stack of movie reels and some albums of Polaroid pictures that you could get a nice price for in a dirty-bookstore anywhere in the country. You bitches have been getting away with murder at Northeastern, and you're going to pay for it right now."
"I demand my rights," Madge Trenton had managed to work her gag out of her mouth and sat up on the couch, her hair disheveled, stark naked except for slippers. "You can't prove anything, and all these girls, we pledged wanted it this way. There's nothing wrong with sex among girls-"
"Listen to that uppity bitch tell us what's right and wrong," Jack Sturdevant snarled, "After what she's done to poor little Lucy, giving her that blonde bitch to work her over! All we have to do, Madge honey, is show those pictures and pictures to the Dean, and you'll not only get expelled but you'll go to jail for a hell of a long time."
And then he added, "And we've just heard from your sanctimonious house-mother, dear Noreen Grange. All about her brother and what happened to Elaine Horton."
Madge gulped, turned scarlet, and exchanged an agonized look with Beverly Wilson, her fellow conspiratress. They knew the jig was up.
"D-don't turn us in, you guys, "Madge Trenton faltered, all her elegance banished now in the face of the disaster which had befallen her. "I-I'll do anything-anything you say. We-we won't put any rules on the pledges anymore and-"
"I'll tell you what you'll do, bitch," Chuck Warner directed, walking over and slapping her face. "You'll let the pledges go, all right, but all of you down here are going to leave school over the weekend. I don't care how you arrange it, but you're going and you're never coming back. That's the only terms on which we'll begin to dicker with dykes like you. Otherwise it's jail and the Dean's office first."
Madge bit her lips, glanced at Beverly, who, very pale and terrified, faintly nodded, "A-all right. We'll leave Northeastern," Madge gasped out.
"Fine. We're going to burn all these films and pictures, and we'll just tell the Dean that you left school to get married, all of you. Except dear Mrs. Grange here. She's going to leave her good because she's a bad influence on girls. That much I'm certainly going to tell the Dean-"
"Oh God, don't, don't," they had removed Noreen Grange's gag though leaving her bent over the spanking stool and firmly strapped down, "For God's sake, I'll never be able to get a job again!"
"Then you'd better find yourself a man, bitch, unless you want to marry that dildo of yours," Ken Hasmer lewdly interrupted. He walked over and delivered a sound smack with the full force of his strong right hand against the plumpish part of Noreen's naked ass, and she wailed and wriggled frantically amid the jeers and obscene encouragements of the other boys.
"All right then, it's settled," Chuck Warner growled. "But first, you bitches are going to get a taste of your own medicine. And the two top officers of this dyke society are going to get theirs first. You guys, drag Beverly and Madge over to that Ping-Pong table, and two more of you hold onto their hands and keep them bent over."
Madge and Beverly began to cry and tried to fight their tormentors, but they had little chance against four enraged and sexually inflamed males. In a few moments, they found themselves draped over the Ping-Pong table side by side, naked as the day they were born, one boy holding each girl's wrists, with their bottoms upturned and ready for swats.
"Five swats apiece, you guys, to each one of these bitches," Chuck announced as he rummaged in the little storage room just off the chamber of initiation and found the arsenal of whips and paddles and other devices. He passed out the pinewood paddles, and then the ordeal of Madge and Beverly began in earnest. As the very first swats landed over their naked asses, they shrieked and tugged madly at their wrist, pleading hysterically that they couldn't stand such pain. But each of them received sixty swats with the paddle, five from each of the boys, at the end of which time they sagged over the Ping-Pong table, their bottoms swollen and livid from the punishment.
"Now I think," Chuck decreed, "that these dykes ought to find out what they've been missing all these years and how a real prick differs from an artificial one." He zipped down his fly and bared his turgid weapon and then strode towards the Ping-Pong table. Gripping Madge Trenton's swollen asscheeks and pulling them apart, he dug himself into her bumhole. With a wild scream, the once arrogant DGP prexy lifted her head and shrieked out, "Awwwwrrrohhheeeee!! Oh my God, not there, oh take it out of there, you're tearing me to pieces!"
But he gave her several good hard digs before turning his attention to the sobbing and whimpering and black-haired Beverly Wilson, yawning apart her swollen bottom globes and finishing his come by digging into her virgin asshole and finally gushing all his spend deep into her bowels.
Then moving around to the front of the table, while the two boys still held the victims' wrists, he plunges his left hand into Madge's hair and, yanking at it, dragged up her tearstained congested face: "Now start sucking a real prick," he ordered.
Jack Sturdevant had got behind the two suffer ers with a three-thonged leather martinet that he had discovered in the punishment arsenal. To encourage Madge, he brought the martinet's thongs down with a whistling clack, and Madge uttered a wailing shriek of torment as she promptly started to gobble prick. Beverly Wilson was encouraged to lick his balls and the lower part of his shaft and scrotum, encouraged by a few such lashes.
They left the two leading officers of the sorority sagging over the table, broken completely conquered. And they turned their attentions to Jane Allen, Trude Jordan and Brenda Torrance. All three naked beauties were forced first to crawl on all fours through an improvised "mill" as the boys straddled their legs and, brandishing paddles, urged the victims on through the line. As the paddles rang out, Trude, Brenda and Jane shrieked and wailed and pleaded for mercy, but they were made to go through two more times before Chuck Warner commanded, "Now all three of you bitches are going to suck cock so you'll never want to use an artificial one again!"
At his sign, all the boys yanked down their zippers and exposed their cocks, and the three weeping, red-bottomed naked sorority girls were obliged to crawl, each in turn, along the row and salute each turgid male weapon with the proper humility.
And now it was time for Noreen Grange to atone for what she had done to Elaine Horton, and Chuck Warner was personally going to supervise it. Elaine by now had dressed and, half-scandalized, half-ecstatic at the way she was being avenged, stood beside him, her eyes warm with passionate adoration for this handsome young senior who had saved her from the degrading sexual bondage of the dyke sorority.
"Here, Elaine honey, take this paddle and give Noreen a good sound thrashing. Then I'll take care of the rest of it," Chuck told her.
And soon the flaxen-haired house-mother, despite her age, was shrieking and wriggling, pleading for mercy as a child might, as the paddle emphatically crashed down and flattened and reddened the jutting contours of her naked ass.
Elaine found she took a keen delight in punishing Noreen this way, and she didn't stop until she had dealt out at least forty solid swats.
Chuck then held up the dildo which had been used on Elaine herself, and told Elaine to open up Noreen's bottom cheeks, at which he promptly jammed the dildo into Noreen's tender asshole till it was absolutely hilted inside.
Then he handed Elaine a whippy yellow rattan cane and said huskily to her, "Now give her a couple of licks with this, baby, while I wind up her little lesson in respect for a man."
So saying, he drew up a footstool and sat down, his swollen prick uptilting towards Noreen's congested, tear-swollen face. "Now start sucking till I come, bitch, because you're going to get caned until you do," he told her.
There was an angry swish and then a still angrier smack as Elaine brought the cane straight across the ripest and also the reddest part of Noreen Grange's jutting asscheeks. With a wild howl of agony, the ardent Lesbian forgot her revulsion and began to suck prick. Nonetheless, she earned about twelve cuts before at last Chuck Warner uttered a cry and shot his spunk right into the housemother's mouth.
* * *
It's November now and the campus is still buzzing over the mysterious disappearance of several of the most prominent and powerful members of Delta Gamma Phi. Mrs. Noreen Grange is also missing, and some say she ran off with a man and got married. But Chuck Warner, Bud Bradbury and Jack Sturdevant know what really happened. They won't tell, however, because they're too busy balling their girl friends. Elaine and Chuck are going to be married, and Elaine has already discovered that a real hot hard prick down her tight sweet cunt beats an artificial dildo every time because love is involved. Lorna Yerkes and Jack Sturdevant are trying out all the positions of the Kama Sutra. And shy Lucy Daniels isn't shy any longer. Bud Bradbury had already had her cherry, or rather, all three: pussy, bumhole and mouth. And the way he feels about her, he wants to marry her and have sole rights of possession in those wet orifices for the rest of his natural life.
