My family comes from a long line of Delta Theta Kappas.  Four generations, in fact.  It’s a big legacy to live up to.  You would think that, being the fifth-generation Delta Theta Kappa, I would get special treatment as a pledge.

I got “special treatment,” all right.  Shining seniors’ shoes with my tongue, streaking across the quad, getting worked over with a paddle… the guys at Delta Theta Kappa work hard and play hard, and being a fifth-generation pledge, I might as well have had a target painted on my back.

I had expected Halloween to get especially crazy.  I’d been tricked and treated for almost six weeks, so my time as a pledge was nearly over.  And that meant I had the grand finale to look forward to.  But there was light at the end of the tunnel; it was all nearly over, and then I would be an official Delta Theta Kappa brother.

The president of the frat, Eric, had us line up the day before Halloween.  “Pledges,” he announced, pacing in front of the line of us, holding a hat in his hand, “I have good news, and bad news.  The good news is, some of you will be getting time off tomorrow.  There are eleven of you, and our sister sorority, the Zeta Kappa Theta , only requires five slaves for Halloween night.  So, in order to be fair, we’ll be drawing your names from this hat.  If your name isn’t called, consider yourself off-duty tomorrow night!”

I’ll admit it: I thought he was joking.  For Halloween we were going to be sent over to the sorority across the street?  Seriously?  That was it?  I had endured a lot during my pledge; having a bunch of girls boss me around for a night sounded like a piece of cake.

Eric plucked five slips of paper from the hat.  “Thomas.  Jake.  Marco.  Stephen,” he called.  For a split second I got excited, thinking I had Halloween free to party.  “Corey.”

Shit.  The last name was mine.

The remaining six pledges cheered and high-fived, while the five of us groaned theatrically.  Deep down, though?  I could think of worse sentences than being told to go hang out with a bunch of hot, drunk senior girls.  I would probably spend the night pouring drinks or holding their purses, and that sounded easy.

…I had no idea how wrong I was.

“So, Pledges, are you going to be good little slaves for our sisters?  Your pledge depends on their happiness; they will be reporting back to me personally about your performance tomorrow night,” said Eric.

“YES, SIR!” we all barked out in unison.

He gave us our costumes in black plastic bags.  I had expected something crazy and revealing, but when I got back to my dorm to unwrap it, I found a surprisingly tasteful ensemble.  Black dress pants, a black button-up shirt, a cape lined with red.  Classic Dracula.  The package even contained the fake fangs and a pair of black silk boxer-briefs.  And everything fit like a glove.  Something about that bothered me; it was like they’d known ahead of time which five pledges they were going to select and had the whole thing planned out.

But hey, if all I had to do to finish my pledge was dress up as a vampire and go do chores for some girls on Halloween, then I figured I’d gotten off easy!

Just after eight p.m. on Halloween, I strode across the quad toward the Zeta Kappa Theta sorority.  The campus was already busy with October mischief.  Skeletons and goblins and Freddy Kruegers ran through piles of dead leaves, crunching and scattering them, toting bags full of beer and candy, on their way to parties.  The sorority was a large, square red brick building covered in ivy, which had turned the color of flames.  The whole place was lit up with warm orange light and you could hear the music pulsing from within.  The party was already underway.

“This is actually cooler than what I was gonna do tonight,” said Stephen as we climbed the stone steps up to the sorority.  His fangs gave him a slight lisp.

“Same,” agreed Jake, reaching out to tap the brass knocker against the door.  It swung open; three girls were there, little face paintings on their cheeks, holding cans of beer.  They all immediately squealed with excitement. 

“THE SLAVES ARE HERE!” they shouted. 

Thomas stepped forward; one of them grabbed a fistful of his shirt.  “Hey, vampires are supposed to be invited in, you idiot,” she snapped.

“Oh.  Sorry.  May we enter?” asked Thomas humbly, faking a little bow.

The girls liked that; they all giggled.  They were dressed up in adorable outfits.  Nurses and Harley Quinns were linked arm-in-arm; Red Riding Hood and Jessica Rabbit were ogling at us like we were fresh slabs of meat.  I had never had so many pairs of eyes on me at once before and I have to admit, I felt more than a little intimidated.

They dragged us into their community living room, lining us up in front of the mantle.  One of the women, dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, strode to the front of the room.  The women settled on couches and loveseats and armrests, watching us; the room quieted and suddenly it didn’t feel much like a party anymore, but an auction. 

Daphne held up a hat.  “You all placed your bids last night, and now, ten of you lucky ladies will get to enjoy a night with the fraternity pledges!  We have been assured of their obedience, stamina, and pedigree.”  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked back, and I swore she looked right at me when she said pedigree, like she knew who I was.  How desperate I was to get into the frat and carry on the family legacy.

“So, without further ado…”  She plunged her hand into the hat.  It was the same hat that Eric had used; the two of them must have worked this out together.  My stomach dropped.  That meant that whatever was coming next was going to be a lot more intense than simply holding a purse for the night.  “…Virginia and Mia!  You two will take that red-haired one.”

I blinked in surprise; two women sprang to their feet, squealing, jumping up and down.  The first one, Virginia, was dressed as a little black cat, a dab of black on her nose and whiskers on her cheeks; the other, Mia, was a witch, in an impossibly short black skirt.  Both of them were obviously seniors.  Virginia had short hair, dyed black, which suited her cat ears perfectly and framed her pale, heart-shaped face dramatically.  Miahad tan skin and long, tumbling chestnut hair that looked way too shiny and soft to belong to a witch.  Both were unequivocally gorgeous, with perky breasts and shapely legs.

“Come on, Count,” said Virginia, grabbing my wrist.  “Let’s go.”

I let her lead me out of the room and toward the stairs, my cape flapping behind me.

My pulse quickened when I realized they were taking me to a bedroom.

Confession time.  I had never been in a woman’s bedroom before.  Not as an adult, anyway.  I hadn’t dated much in high school… okay, not at all, actually.  It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with my looks or anything!  I was just always more focused on academics.  I figured I could start dating in college.  The problem was, I’d been completely focused on getting into Delta Theta Kappa, and hadn’t had time to meet any girls.  Consequently, I was still a virgin, had never gotten past second base, and didn’t get to see a lot of women’s bedrooms.

The night had taken a thrilling turn; I looked around eagerly at the room they led me into, but barely got a glimpse before Virginia shoved me toward her bed.  Her strength was surprising; I bounced off the side of the mattress.

“Did you know the real Count Dracula was a redhead, too?” she asked casually.

“…oh, really?” I said, dumbly.  I’d never read the book and I was still reeling from the shove.  Her bedspread was purple.  “I, uh, don’t think I’ve ever actually read the book.  …I saw the movie, though!”

Virginia tsked and shook her head with obvious disappointment.  She turned to a book shield and pulled out a thick, well-worn hardcover.  “Turn around, and bend over,” she commanded.

I turned my stomach on her bed.  I propped my front up with my elbows and stuck my ass out.  I was prepared for a few gentle smacks; what I got was something entirely different.

First I felt a pair of arms encircle my waist, a pair of breasts press against my back.  My heart jumped into my throat as a pair of skilled hands reached down to unbutton and unzip my pants; they were yanked down without much fanfare, entangling my ankles.

And then the paddling started.

Dracula is over 400 pages.  It’s a good book if you want to spank someone’s ass cherry red.  It was hard to say what was more humiliating in that moment: the pants on the floor, a sexy black cat thumping my behind with a book, her friend giggling as she watched… or the tent that was forming in my boxers.

Can you blame me?  The girls were gorgeous, and not just gorgeous.  They were also smart, smart enough to like classic novels like Dracula, and strong, strong enough to actually make me wince as they worked my ass over with the thick copy of the book.  The whole thing was absurd but intriguing in a way I couldn’t quite understand.  All I could do was close my eyes and try to appreciate the sensation of the book as it hit me, sending reverberations up my spine, tingling and electric.

She stopped.

“So, ginger,” she said, sneeringly, “you want to join Delta Theta Kappa, huh?”

“Yes,” I said.  I’ve always hated being called a ginger; I have rusty red-brown hair, courtesy of my dad, and pale skin, courtesy of my mom. A constellation of freckles ran across my nose that stood out whenever I blushed.  And needless to say, under Virginia’s and Mia’s gazes, I was blushing bright red.

“Yes, Mistress,” corrected Mia.  “You will address us as Mistress for the rest of the night.”

“Yes… Mistress,” I repeated.

“How badly do you want to join Delta Theta Kappa?”

“I’d do anything,” I said, immediately, surprised at my own conviction.

“Anything?”  I turned; Virginia had one eyebrow raised, her expression twisted into a coy little smile.

“…anything.”

“Not everyone’s cut out for Delta Theta Kappa.  …you have to understand, there are certain… responsibilities the men carry.  And if you don’t want those responsibilities then it’s better not to join.  You wouldn’t be happy.  There’s a responsibility to serve, to occasionally fulfill the role of willing slave to your Zeta Kappa Theta sister, to provide–”

“I want the responsibilities,” I interrupted. 

Virginia tapped my groin with the hard, flat cover of the book; I say “tap” but it was harder than that, and on my semi-erect penis, the sensation was phenomenally painful.  I gasped, knees going weak, and grabbed between my legs, trying to shield my junk from the blow that was already over.

“Mistress.  And don’t interrupt me,” scolded Virginia. 

“Sorry, Mistress,” I gasped, eyes watering.

“Tonight, we’ll be putting you through your paces to determine if you have what it takes to be a Delta Theta Kappa man.  Some men discover they were born for this; others discover this isn’t the right frat for them.  If it’s not, then you can leave at any time; you only need to say the safe word, which is ‘Hocus Pocus,’ and we’ll let you go.  But of course, we will inform Eric of your failure.”

“I won’t fail.  Mistress,” I said, firmly.

“Great attitude, carrot-top.  Now why don’t you unbutton that shirt and show us what we’re working with?” said Mia, who was sitting on a second bed across from us, her legs crossed.  Her thighs were absolutely creamy contrasted to her dark little outfit, and her skirt had ridden up, revealing her legs.  I tried not to stare as I reached up to the cape’s tie.  Virginia reached out and stopped my hand.  “No, leave the cape on,” she said.

You know how you sometimes feel more naked wearing just socks than if you were completely nude?  Well, socks have nothing on capes.  I felt ridiculous as I unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off my shoulders.  They made me undress for them, toeing off my shoes, kicking away my pants, until all I was wearing was the cape over my shoulders and the black boxer-briefs.

Mia rose from the bed and sauntered over.  She put a hand on my chest and shoved me back; I flopped onto the purple bedspread, feeling embarrassed at the bulge in my boxers.

“Well, well, look who’s excited.  It’s not very big, is it?” she said, pouting her dark red lips at me.

“Yes it is,” I said without thinking.

Mia reached down and grabbed my crotch, hard, her long black nails grazing my inner thighs like claws.  “Did you just disagree with me, slave?” she hissed.

“No, Mistress,” I answered, voice cracking.

Her grip tightened.  “I’m feeling this cock and it doesn’t feel very big to me.  How big is it, slave?”

“S-six and three-quarter inches,” I said.  I knew it precisely because I’d measured.  What guy hasn’t?

Impossibly, her grip tightened.  “No, that’s not right, is it, ginger?  It’s smaller than that.”

“Five inches,” I said.

Her nails began digging into my testicles.

“Three inches.  Two inches!  It’s two inches, Mistress!” I cried, voice high.

That was the magic number; her grip loosened and she palmed my sore dick gently, almost apologetically.  “That’s right.  You have a small, two-inch stub, don’t you?  I don’t think it will be of much use to us, will it?  …but that’s okay.  We can find other ways for you to serve us.”

She climbed onto the bed, putting her knees on either side of me, straddling my body, and scooted up, sitting on my chest.  She gave each of my nipples a small pinch that made me gasp and arch into her touch.  Then, she scooted up further, to my neck, to my face.

That was when I discovered she was not wearing any panties. 

She wriggled her hips, letting her skirt ride up to her thighs, and sat on my face, her soft, warm pussy pressing against my mouth.  She raked her nails against my cheek.  “What are you waiting for?  Don’t you know what to do?  Use that tongue to please your Mistress!”

I didn’t need telling twice; I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, pressing my tongue into her delicate folds, licking up the length of her slit and tonguing her hole softly.  I’d never done it before and had no idea if I was doing it right, but I found it came naturally to me, to want to show this dominant woman that I could obey her and make her feel good.

She wiggled her hips, squirming on top of me, mashing her pussy against my mouth as I licked her.  The sting of the book on my ass lingered and my cock was fully erect, pulsing; all the sensations together were amazing.

After a moment, she pulled away; I found myself lifting my neck, trying to follow her.  She gave me a slap across the face for that, open-handed, and I lay back.  The rules were becoming very clear, and there was a beautiful simplicity to them.  I was here for the girls to play with; I was little more than a very advanced sex toy.  They expected me to provide them with entertainment and not to act out; speaking or moving without their permission would lead to punishment. 

“So, ginger, are you a virgin?” asked Virginia.  She had turned to open a dresser drawer and was pawing through the contents, her back to me.

I decided that honesty was the best policy.  “Yes,” I said, then quickly remembered, “Mistress.”

“I thought so.  …why don’t we fix that?” she said.

A thrill went through me.  They were going to let me fuck them?  It seemed too good to be true!

She turned.  She was holding a long black metal pole in her hands; on each end, there was a heavy leather cuff.

“What’s that?  Mistress?” I asked in confusion.

“It’s a spreader bar.  Stand up and spread ‘em,” she said.

I felt confused; I didn’t see the point of the spreader bar.  But I climbed to my feet and widened my stance.  Virginia knelt and slapped my thighs to get me to spread my legs even more; she placed the bar between them and pulled the cuffs tightly over my ankles.  To be honest with you, the sensation was exciting to me.  The cuffs were thick and heavy; I can only describe the sensation of having them on my ankles as getting a hug.  I felt good in those cuffs.

But the warm fuzzies didn’t last.  I looked up to find Mia had removed her skirt and was pulling on a heavy red harness over her thighs; at the crotch was a large, heavily bobbing silicone dick.  I wasn’t going to fuck her; she was going to fuck me!

Automatically, I tried to close my legs, but the spreader bar kept me pried open and exposed.

“Hold still,” instructed Virginia; brandishing a pair of scissors.  I froze as she slid the blades into my waist-band and slowly cut my boxer-briefs into ribbons.  My erection tumbled free.  It hadn’t gone down one bit.  I reached down to try to cover myself, but Virginia swatted my hand away.

“No need to be embarrassed, slave.  You should be honored to allow your Mistress to fuck you.”

I opened my mouth, and found myself saying, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Look, he’s a natural red-head,” giggled Mia, pointing to my exposed crotch.

Virginia handed Mia a bottle of lube. Mia took it and squirted some over her fingers, reaching between my legs.  A whimper escaped my throat as she began stroking my entrance, probing at the small ring of muscle there.  “Relax, ginger.  You’ll love taking Mistress’s cock.  Do you see how much bigger it is than yours?” she said, rolling her hips and causing the strap-on to bounce.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, gasping as one of her fingers breached me.  A second digit followed, and she began scissoring me with expertise, stretching my hole in preparation.  I closed my eyes, focusing on the cool slipperiness of the lube.

The mattress dipped as Mia climbed onto it.  She grabbed my hips and pulled me to her, and I felt the tip of the strap-on poke at my ass.

When it slid in, though… the burn, the stretch, the amazing feeling of being filled!  I gasped and arched my back, eyes snapping open.  Mia began to thrust into me, a steady, rhythmic pounding, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. 

“Take it, cocksleeve.  Take it,” she panted on top of me, and I admit it; I had never been so turned on in my life.  “That’s right, my obedient little slut.  Take Mistress’s cock like a good boy.”

I came then and there, spurting ropes of semen all over my stomach and chest, twitching violently through my orgasm while Mia plowed me.

She stopped; I was still shaking from my climax.

“Did you just cum without my permission?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.  I tried to answer but couldn’t; she gave a little snap of her hips that pushed the cock into me, blinding me with stimulation.  “Did you?”

“Y-yes.  I’m sorry, Mistress.  It– you– I like the way you fuck me,” I stammered.

“Great.  A premature ejaculator.  Guess that explains why he’s a virgin, huh?” said Virginia with a roll of her eyes.

“But I’m not a virgin anymore,” I said, feeling bold and a little sassy.  My voice cracked, though, which ruined any attempt at sounding cool.  Virginia’s hand flew to her mouth and she stifled a laugh, but it was more at me than with me.

Mia grabbed my face and stared directly down into my eyes.  “Open,” she said coolly, unamused by my pathetic attempt to stand up for myself.

I opened my mouth.  She spat in it, then reached down, dragged her hand up my chest, and put her finger in my mouth, drizzling my own cum all over my tongue.  “Eat it.”

I swallowed obediently.  She wiped my torso off with her fingers, feeding me my seed, and only once I’d swallowed all of it did she climb off me.

She grabbed the spreader bar and pulled it up, holding it aloft.  “Virginia, this ungrateful little brat came without asking.  Would you like to punish him?”

“Certainly.”

I closed my eyes; I was still lying on my back, and with my legs spread and pulled above my head, I knew what was coming next, because the back of my thighs, my ass, and my balls were all perfectly on display.

Virginia got the copy of Dracula and began spanking me.  The first blow hit the mark exactly, getting my sore, recently violated asshole and my balls, making me gasp with pain.  She slapped my thighs and my ass, heating the skin, leaving it stinging and sore.  Every few blows she made sure to spank my balls, and soon, I was a quivering, whimpering mess.

“M-mistress,” I whimpered.

She stopped at that.  “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes!  Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission.  I’m sorry, Mistress,” I babbled.

“Now it’s my turn to fuck you.  You’ll behave, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress!”

She laughed lightly.  “Well, I’m not going to give you a choice.  Mia, get me the cock cage.”

Cock cage?  I’d never seen one, let alone worn one.  It was a small, slightly curved metal device, the bars of it gleamed silver.  I stilled as Virginia reached down to fondle my softened penis, gently maneuvering a ring over my balls and then stuffing the shaft into the cage.  The metal bars were cool against my length; I heard the click of a lock.  My cock twitched and found there was nowhere to go.

Once she had rendered me impotent, Virginia pulled on her own harness while Mia stroked and poked at my hole.  By the time Virginia had secured her strap-on, I was turned on again, but any time my cock tried to swell up with arousal, it was met with resistance.  The pressure was almost unbearable.

Virginia settled between my legs and pressed her strap-on against my hole; I arched into the familiar sensation, eager to accept her.  I closed my eyes as she penetrated me, my hands flexing in the sheets, gripping the fabric as she rutted into me.

“What’s wrong, carrot-top?  Don’t you like this?  You can’t seem to get it up this time,” she mocked as she fucked me.  I moaned, my cock straining against the bars of the cock cage.  “Maybe I should just fuck you harder!”  She pushed harder, burying the strap-up up to the hilt, sinking the whole length of it into me.

I don’t know how long we went for; her stamina was remarkable and it could have easily been an hour.  She came with a moan and pulled out; the two of them left me on the bed, legs still spread, hole aching, cock caged, and that damned vampire cape crumpled under me.

I dozed off despite the uncomfortable position; when I woke, one of them was shaking me, and the other was undoing the cuffs on my ankles.

“Time to go, Drac.  You have to run on home before the sun comes up, or you’ll melt,” said Mia.  “But won’t worry, we won’t let you leave empty-handed!”  She held up a small, red, teardrop-shape plug.  My legs were free, but I kept them obediently spread, letting her push the plug into me.  It fit comfortably; I adjusted, feeling it inside me.  I’d never put anything into my ass before, but after being fucked by the girls, I couldn’t imagine anything better.

“…what about the cage?  Mistress?” I asked.

Both girls laughed.  “The cage?  Oh, Eric has the keys to the cages.  You can go home and inform him we were satisfied with your performance.  It’s clear you need more training, but as a member of Delta Theta Kappa, we’re happy to provide that for you.”

I sat up dizzily.  I’d lost my virginity, and I was getting into the frat! 

Dad was right, after all; Greek life really was making a man out of me!

“Thank you, Mistress,” I said, reaching for my clothes scattered on the ground.  The underwear was unsalvageable, but the pants and shirt were okay.  I pulled them on, feeling weird about the plug and the cage, but also strangely proud.

“Oh, one more thing, ginger.”  Virginia held up a copy of Dracula.  I flinched, expecting a whack, but she laughed and held it out to me.  “Read up.  Next time we see you, I expect you to have finished!”