The Pledge Mistress Copyright 2006 by EC EC's Erotic Art & Fiction - http://www.ecgraphicarts.com/ (warnings: erotic discipline, sex between adults, medical fetish, public nudity, sexual hazing, violence, references to rape) Chapter 35 – Heather's window of opportunity While Tracy was absent dealing with the affairs of the newest resident of the Four-Beta house, Lisa found out the hard way what it was like not to be under her protection. Sergeant-at-Arms Heather perceived a small window of opportunity to force Lisa to quit the sorority, and had every intention of pursuing it. Lisa was going to get out of class early that day, which would give the Sergeant-at-Arms some time to try to break her. That morning, as Heather and the pledges neared the Economics Building, the Sergeant-at-Arms had something ominous to say: “Pledge, I have some real problems with your performance. We can deal with it this afternoon, when I pick you up. I’ll have you to myself for a while, so that’ll give you something to look forward to.” “Yes, ma’am.” At 3:00 p.m. the Four-Beta Sergeant-at-Arms returned to retrieve Lisa. As she went to her knees, Lisa remembered Heather’s promise of “dealing with” the problems she had the day before due to her fatigue. A quick glimpse of Heather’s face indicated that no, she had nor forgotten what she had said earlier in the day. The first detail that worried Lisa was what Heather was wearing. Heather normally dressed in cargo pants and Four-Beta blouses whenever on campus, but that afternoon she was wearing a light T-shirt, old jogging shorts, and a pair of beach sandals. She carried neither a purse nor a backpack. Instead, she was carrying an umbrella. Lisa realized that she had dressed with the expectation of getting wet. Lisa’s concern mounted when Heather told her to leave her backpack and books in Burnside’s office. Lisa reluctantly followed Heather out of the Economics Building and onto a sidewalk leading to the old part of campus. Without saying a word, the Sergeant- at-Arms abruptly walked into a grassy area that was used for impromptu rugby games, and thus very muddy. Heather suddenly screamed at Lisa to get into the front-leaning-rest position. Lisa quickly complied, realizing with horror that the sorority officer’s shouting had just drawn the attention of several dozen students who happened to be walking around the area. As a growing audience of young people stood watching, Heather’s voice snarled: “ONE…TWO…THREE…” “One!” “ONE…TWO…THREE…” “Two!” “ONE…TWO…THREE…” “Three!” “ONE…TWO…THREE…” When Lisa became too tired to continue doing pushups, Heather ordered her on her back to do sit-ups, apparently not in the least concerned that it was quite obvious that Lisa’s thong had pushed to one side, leaving her crotch partially exposed every time she sat up. Lisa struggled to do the exercises and tried to ignore the guys staring at her with incredulous, aroused expressions. There were yet more push-ups and then more sit-ups, and finally a horrible exercise called “the dying cockroach” which required Lisa to lie on her back, put her feet in the air, and move her legs as though she were pedaling an invisible bicycle. When Lisa’s body gave out the unhappy session ended, but now her uniform was filthy and covered with grass stains. Her skin was saturated with sweat and her body stunk because she had not been allowed to use deodorant. In front of the spectators, Heather got in her face and snarled: “You’re a disgrace, Pledge! An absolute fucking disgrace! What’s this shit with your uniform? You call yourself a Four-Beta looking like that? Come-on, Pledge, let’s get some answers! What gives you the fucking right to disgrace your uniform with this filth?” Heather punctuated her last sentence with several vicious pokes to Lisa’s chest. “I was exercising, ma’am! That’s why I got dirty, ma’am!” “So we have a little piggie who likes to roll in the dirt, don’t we? OK, little piggie who likes to roll in the dirt, how about some low-crawling?” Lisa looked at Heather in horror. Low-crawling? “Come-on little piggie, LOW-CRAWL! NOW!” Lisa, still dismayed at how quickly Heather’s fury had escalated, did as she was told. In the hot afternoon sun she lay down on the wet ground and began dragging herself towards the sidewalk. Before she had gone very far her entire front was covered with mud and grass stains that would be almost impossible to get out. Her hair clips came undone and grass blades worked their way into her hair. More grass worked its way into her shirt and under her thong. Her white tennis shoes were covered with mud, along with her hands and knees. “Not low enough, Pledge! Not low enough! You’d better show me some real low crawling, just like that butch Tracy would do in the Army! Imagine you got people shooting at you from the tree line! Come-on soldier, let’s see some REAL low-crawling!” “REAL low-crawling” actually meant dragging herself on the ground. The minutes dragged by as Lisa worked her way towards the sidewalk. The entire perspective of her world changed, given that she was at eye level with the grass and her spectators seemed to tower in the distance. Suddenly she heard a hiss and noticed everyone quickly moving away towards the sidewalk. Heather calmly opened her umbrella. The automatic sprinklers were coming on. In a voice mocking Tracy’s manner of talking she shouted: “Keep moving, Pledge! You know the deal! It’s just mind over matter! If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter!” Within seconds Lisa’s clothing was soaked and clung tightly to her skin. Her shirt was getting pulled out of shape and she had difficulty keeping her thong up. Her movement became even more difficult because she had to grab her thong with one hand to keep it from coming off completely. Heather, in spite her umbrella, was soaked as well, but at least she was not covered in mud. “On your back, Pledge!” As Lisa rolled on her back, Heather suddenly folded her umbrella and threw it to her. Again mocking Tracy’s voice she shouted: “Here’s your weapon, soldier! Both hands on the weapon!” Lisa’s shoulders ground into the mud, now that she no longer could use her arms to support herself. The water from the sprinklers hit her in the face and went up her nose, making her cough. Worst of all, she felt her thong working its way down her hips. She let go of the umbrella to pull it up, only to have Heather get in her face and scream: “DO NOT LET GO OF YOUR WEAPON, SOLDIER! DO NOT LET GO OF YOUR WEAPON!” Lisa gritted her teeth and thought to herself: OK, fine, you nasty bitch! If my thong comes off and we get arrested, it’s your fault! As she moved through the mud and the water continued hitting her in the face, the soggy ground grabbed Lisa’s thong and pulled it down her thighs. There were a few whistles from the spectators, but Lisa ignored them. She kicked off the garment and continued moving. Heather yelled at Lisa to roll on her stomach and keep moving. Lisa was now bottomless, but she was so completely covered in mud that it was hard to tell what she was or was not wearing. Heather grabbed the thong off the ground and followed her as the sprinklers continued to saturate both of them. Finally Lisa made it to the sidewalk and Heather ordered her to “recover”. She handed over the thong and with difficulty Lisa managed to pull it up over her muddy legs. She knelt, assuming the “position of submission and respect”, although at that moment she hated Heather more than she had ever hated anyone in her life. Heather calmly stripped off her shirt (she was wearing a sports-bra underneath), wrung it out over Lisa’s head, and put it back on. She kicked the mud out of her sandals and ordered Lisa to stand up and continue following her back to the sorority. Lisa’s body shook from muscle fatigue and the horrible stress and embarrassment she had endured over the last hour. However, there was more humiliation coming, because Heather casually led her pledge along the crowded sidewalks past several blocks of businesses. Tears welled up in Lisa’s eyes as hundreds of people stared at her. Heather’s wet clothing drew some attention as well, but not nearly as much as her mud-covered companion. The worst part of the walk was having to hold up her thong with one hand, because the elastic waistband was stretched and ruined. Heather then did something that shocked Lisa, because it was a clear violation of Four-Beta pledge policy and indicated that she was not thinking straight. She took her pledge to a fraternity, but it was not the Tri-Alpha house. Instead it was one of the university’s worst drinking fraternities, one that had survived scandal after scandal involving under-aged drinking, drug use, and date rapes. She ordered Lisa to lie facedown on the ground and ripped off her thong. The young woman was left lying in the front yard, bottomless and covered in mud. A moment later the entire group came out led by Heather and some disheveled guy who seemed to be in charge of the others. Heather and the fraternity leader were carrying paddles. Most of the others were carrying beer bottles. The Four- Beta Sergeant-at-Arms bent down and whispered into Lisa’s ear: “Welcome to Hell Week, Pledge. We didn’t mention this, ‘cause it’s our little pledging secret. Surprise!” Lisa was terrified, but tried to assess what was going on. It was obvious that Heather was lying. No one from the Four-Beta House even knew any of these guys, which probably was why the Sergeant-at-Arms had brought her over here. Had she taken a pledge in Lisa’s condition to the Tri-Alpha Fraternity, there was no question a Triple-A immediately would have called the Four-Beta House to find out what was going on. Before Lisa had time to react, four guys grabbed her to tie her hands and feet. She screamed, but Heather slipped a burlap sack over her head and tied it shut. The guys then picked her up and carried her to the back yard. She heard Heather’s voice. “OK, little piggie, time to get slaughtered.” With that Lisa heard the snip of a pair of scissors and felt her Four-Beta pledge uniform shirt being torn from her body. Panic swept through her as she suddenly wondered if she was about to be killed. Rough hands pulled her off the ground and bent her over a picnic table. She felt a couple of ropes go over her back and secure her to the surface. She was immobilized, bent over, exposed, and horribly vulnerable. “Wash her off.” For several minutes a high-powered jet of water painfully worked its way over the pledge’s body, clearing the mud and leaving her tanned skin and shapely figure totally exposed. The water saturated the burlap sack, making it difficult to breathe. The fear of suffocation drove her to near panic, overriding her fear of what Heather was about to do to her. For the first time in her life Lisa was totally helpless. Those guys could do anything they wanted and she already took it for granted that she was about to be gang-raped. She would be gang-raped, and probably suffer a bunch of other horrible indignities as well. There no longer was anything she could do to prevent that. Her only hope was to try to survive the ordeal, somehow escape, and get even at some point in the future. As Lisa tried to control her panic and resist the urge to scream, she heard Heather’s voice: “You’ve had this coming for a long time, Pledge. Now I’m gonna get you, and there’s nothing your butch soldier-girl can do about it. And you wanna know why?” Lisa said nothing. Heather grabbed one of her fingers and viciously twisted it backwards until she screamed. “You wanna know why? Because she’s sitting in jail right now. That’s why soldier-girl’s not gonna help you. She’s sitting in jail. Now doesn’t that suck?” With that Heather released Lisa’s finger and landed a vicious kick at her vulnerable backside. Again panic welled up inside Lisa as a sinister metallic taste formed in her dry throat. Now she no longer doubted that Heather was about to have her killed. No, this was not a simple afternoon of hazing torment. This was it, the end of her life. Lisa knew that even had she wanted to, Heather could not go back. It was too late, because already she had violated several of the Four-Beta Sorority’s most fundamental rules. The guys couldn’t go back either. Already they were guilty of kidnapping and assault. Within a few minutes rape would be added to their list of crimes. Lisa knew, once they were done with her, they would have to silence her. Again Lisa heard Heather’s voice: “You’ve had this coming all summer, bitch. Now I’m gonna fuck you up.” Lisa felt the sharp blow of a paddle against her bottom and the cheering of several drunk guys. There was a pause… “You want to take a shot?” There was another pause and Lisa felt a second crack against her bottom. For the next several minutes the guys took turns with the paddle as Heather screamed: “Hit her harder, you fucking wimp! Come-on…let her have it!” ---------- At best Lisa could hope to live just a few more very painful hours. She would be paddled, then raped, then humiliated, and finally put out of her misery. The group had not yet made a formal decision to kill her, but that was only a matter of time. If she got away she’d talk, so the only logical way to silence her would be by making her disappear. At that point, only a miracle would save Lisa Campbell. Egged on by testosterone, drugs, alcohol, and a woman whose thoughts were distorted by hatred and jealousy, the shared psychology of the group would escalate until its captive was reduced to a battered corpse that needed to be dumped somewhere. Only later would anyone have time to reflect on what had happened, when it was too late. ---------- It turned out that Lisa was very lucky that day, because she got her miracle. Her reprieve came from a fraternity sophomore called Josh Hardin. Josh was a psychology major and was taking a seminar from Tracy. He had seen Lisa several times with his TA, so she was not just an anonymous face to him. Also, just the week before he had read an assigned article about the role of group psychology in mass murder that was still fresh in his thoughts. Finally, he had just returned from class and had not yet started drinking. With no alcohol in his brain, he was able to think straight the one time in his life when it really mattered. Josh was not the stereotype of a hero, but that afternoon he had a chance to go against his instincts and avoid following his group into its moral abyss. He knew that what was happening in his fraternity's back yard matched Tracy's article word for word. He wanted no part in what was happening to Lisa Campbell and decided to put a stop to it. He took a deep breath, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and called the police. In doing so he knew he was ending his association with his fraternity, but at least he would not be going to jail like the others. About 15 minutes after the tormenting of Lisa began; the house’s battered back door flew open: “POLICE! EVERYBODY FREEZE! NOW!” “WE SAID FREEZE! PUT THOSE BOTTLES DOWN!” “GET ON THE GROUND! GET ON THE GROUND!” “DON’T DO IT, HOTSHOT! DON’T FUCKIN’ DO IT! PUT IT DOWN, NOW!” "GET ON THE GROUND!" Heather got on the ground along with the others. A cop pulled the burlap bag off Lisa’s head and began struggling to loosen the ropes restraining her hands. She exchanged glances with Josh, the only member of the fraternity not lying on the ground in handcuffs. She recognized him, and realized that he must have been the one who called the police. ---------- It wasn’t until she had her mug shot taken that Heather fully comprehended what she had just done to herself. Heather still saw life from a very self-centered perspective and only in terms of how things affected her social standing and ambitions. However, even from her selfish world-view she could understand that her obsession with the Four-Beta presidency had ruined her life. The promise of power had her under its spell. The spell, now that its damage was done, was lifting from her soul, leaving her with nothing but horrified emptiness and a lifetime of regret. With that thought Heather, soon to be the ousted and disgraced former Four-Beta Sergeant-at-Arms, stared into the police camera with glassy eyes.