There’s definitely pros and cons to university life. 

The pros?  Ever since I finished rushing the Delta Theta Kappa frat, I’d found myself surrounded by my new frat brothers.  I was a pledge in a familiar, supportive environment that was never boring, and that opened me up to a million new experiences that I’d only ever dreamed of.  So many experiences.  So much support.  Constantly.  All the time.

That brings me to the biggest con. When you’re 18 years old, sometimes you sort of… need some privacy.  Some alone time, if you catch my drift.

As a pledge, I understood I was at the bottom of the pecking order.  It was fine; I wouldn’t be a freshman forever, and I knew that the seniors of Delta Theta Kappa got some major perks.  Being an errand boy for a year was a small price to pay for the cushy existence at the top… not to mention all the alum perks post-graduation!  Delta Theta Kappas are practically guaranteed a life of luxury once they graduate, assuming they get out alive.

Still… a guy has needs.

When I peeked into the freshman dorm’s shower facilities on Saturday, hoping against hope they would be empty, I discovered my wish had been granted.  A hot shower, alone?  I was on cloud nine!  It had been a week since I’d been able to be alone with my thoughts, and I was in sore need of some self-care.  Since it was morning, all the other guys on my floor were probably sleeping in.  But I had other plans in mind.

I peeled off my clothes and draped them over one of the benches in the middle of the room, hanging my towel over the nearest rack and taking the last shower stall.  I turned on a spray of warm water and ducked under it, tilting my head back to let it soak my hair. 

Heaven.

With a sigh of satisfaction, I reached down to cuff my poor, neglected manhood.  It needed no encouragement; it almost immediately stiffened in my hand, grateful for some attention, and I began stroking it slowly and evenly, letting my thoughts drift like the steam off my body.

My body might have been relaxed (most of it, anyway), but my mind had kicked into overdrive.  I had been so busy with my pledge duties, I hadn’t had much time to contemplate all of the crazy things that had happened over the semester.

My thoughts turned first to the last fundraiser auction: the incredible win for the frat, and the night with one of the Zeta Kappa Theta alums.  The way that Mrs. Tennyson, my purchaser, had worked her crop over me, and had dripped wax over my chest.  (The hair was only just starting to grow back.)

Thinking of her, of how she had once been a member of our sister sorority, made me think of my first experience there with Maddie and Virginia at the Zeta sorority house.  The sharp slap of a heavy book against my bare ass, the slide of cool scissors against my skin as they cut away my boxers, the gentle fingers pressing into my hole and milking my cock.

Eyes closed, I let myself give a small, trembling groan; it echoed through the empty shower room, but there was no one to hear me.  I pictured Maddie’s long, chestnut hair tickling my back as she arched over me, pumping into me with a thick strap-on; I picture Virginia’s angular face smiling down arrogantly at me as I kissed the length of her body.  In my fantasy, of course, the girls were in charge, but they were gentle and needy.  They grabbed fistfuls of my hair to lead my mouth to their nipples; they used their delicately manicured hands to not-so-delicately push me onto the bed.  I imagined Virginia holding down my shoulders and positioning herself over me to be serviced while Maddie straddled my legs, playing with my cock, ready to take it and milk me dry with her body.

In my hand, my cock was rock-hard with the mental images I was feeding it.  The two sorority sisters, using me, taking their pleasure, had me edging up to what I was sure was going to be an immensely satisfying climax.  I was stretching it out, taking my time, picturing the girls warning me in my head not to finish until they were both satisfied; in my fantasy, they waved crops warningly over my naked body as they rode my cock and mouth, promising me I’d get to ejaculate but only once they were properly satisfied.

“Loyalty, patience, and obedience are Delta traits;

Zetas keep them in their place. 

Providing protection and guidance, we’re bound for life,

and through our houses, our families thrive!”

They chanted the little song all pledges had to memorize and recite every morning to the chapter presidents as they rode me.

“I’m loyal.  I’m patient.  I’m obedient!” I panted under the girls, bucking up my hips, licking Virginia’s soft mound of wet, eager flesh as she bounced on top of me.

“What a good little pledge.  The perfect boy-toy.  Do you think we should let him cum, Maddie?” giggled Virginia.

“Not yet; I’m still enjoying his warm, stiff p–”

“–LEDGE!”

I jumped about a foot in the air, dropping my cock and slipping on the tiles.  I scrambled to catch my footing, trying to reach for my towel before I could get caught, but it was too late. 

I was no longer alone in the showers!

Standing in the middle of the room, fully clothed, hands on his hips, was Eric, the chapter president.  Eric lived at the frat house and I had no idea how he’d gotten into the freshmen dorm showers, but I was too embarrassed to ask.  I tried to cover myself with my hands but there was no hiding my massive erection.  It was still throbbing and leaking pre-cum, refusing to give up on the fantasy that had brought it so titillatingly close to satisfaction.

“Well, well, well.  Looks like the early bird is getting the worm,” said Eric, eyes roaming down to my groin.

I didn’t think I could feel more embarrassed but somehow, Eric’s tone made me feel like a kid whose hand had been caught in a cookie jar.  “I, uh– I– hi, Eric,” I said, unsure of what he wanted.  I eased out from under the water and stretched for my towel, desperate to hide myself from his prying eyes.

“Good to know you’re not lazy, at least.  I have an assignment for you.  An important one,” announced Eric, plucking my towel off the rack to prevent me from retrieving it to cover myself.

“Okay.  Sure.  I can be ready in five min–”

“You can be ready now,” interrupted Eric.  “This is critical.  It’s Virginia’s birthday and she expects our frat to make sure it’s a memorable one.  That’s where you come in.  …she likes redheads.”

“Virginia?” I repeated, thinking of the senior from the Halloween party.  “I know her!”

“I certainly hope so.  She’s my girlfriend,” said Eric, rolling his eyes at me.  “Hurry up and finish washing; she won’t want a dirty present.”

“Uhh…”  I hesitated, waiting for Eric to leave, but instead, he sat on the bench where my clothes were and crossed his legs, putting his hands on his knee and staring at me like he was an acting coach watching an untalented actor try to impress him.

I had had no idea that Virginia was Eric’s girlfriend!  Maybe that’s why he always seemed so hard on me.

“Well?  Go on.  Here’s some body wash.  Make sure you’re impeccable,” said Eric, pulling a tiny bottle of travel-sized soap from his pocket and flinging it at me.  I fumbled but managed to catch it against my chest.  “Start at the top, and work your way down.”

I tried to think of a way to beg Eric to just give me a few more minutes; my balls were aching with denial.  But it was obvious Eric wasn’t going to budge.

I moved uncomfortably back under the spray of warm water and began lathering up while Eric stared at me unflinchingly, nodding as I washed my hair and then scrubbed the body wash he’d given me all over my chest and under my arms.  Raising my arms to lather up my face and chest made me feel extremely exposed and I turned my body a little, trying to angle it away from Eric as I cleaned myself off.

As I dipped a hand down to massage my balls, Eric made a soft clucking noise of disapproval.  “No fooling around down there.  I need you ready.  Your orgasms belong to the Zeta sorority while you’re in our frat.  Don’t forget it!”

“Right.  Yes, sir,” I said, giving my dick the briefest stroke to make sure it was clean.  The teasing sensation was agony.  Eric’s expression was sour; I washed frantically, wanting to get my clothes on, knowing it would be useless to ask him for any leniency.  I didn’t dare try to give myself any more tugs; if I came, Eric would bring out the paddle.  I’d been on the wrong end of that thing a few times already!

“Virginia will kill me if she thinks I forgot, so you’d better keep your mouth shut,” he added.  “If you embarrass me in front of my girlfriend–”

“Virginia is your girlfriend?” I asked as I rinsed away all the suds from my skin.  I was still processing this information.

Eric rolled his eyes.  “You’re not very observational, are you, Corey?  …obviously you’re too preoccupied with… other things.”

His eyes flickered down again, and my face warmed.  “I’ve been preoccupied with my pledge duties,” I mumbled, a little defensively. 

Eric may have been a hardass, but at this, his face softened just a little.  “I know, Vanderbilt, I know.  You’re one of the good ones.  You’re legacy, and that means a lot.  I’ve been watching you.  You could be president of the frat one day, if you keep it up.  …maybe that was the wrong choice of words.”  His gaze darted down to my erection again.

I turned off the shower and stepped out, shivering.  Goosebumps exploded over my arms and my nipples hardened.  I put one arm around myself, useless though it was, and stuck out a hand for my towel.  Eric waited a beat before he gave it to me.  Making sure, I guess, that I understood my place, and the power he had over me.

I toweled off, my hair springing to life, and pulled on my clothes, struggling a little to get my pants comfortable.  Eric barely waited for me to finish buttoning up before he gave me a shove.  “Come on, come on, let’s go!  We’ve got to make today count.  Move it, pledge!”

“I’m moving, I’m moving!” I squawked, hurrying out of the shower and leaving my fantasies behind to circle the drain.

Even though my morning “me time” had been interrupted, I didn’t feel entirely discouraged about the weekend.  Being hand-picked to perform frat duties, well, it’s a little intimidating, but it’s also an honor.  And Eric’s words about me being good, good enough to replace him, someday, bounced around in my head, warming me a little as I followed him out of the dorms and across the campus.  Most of the time Eric was bossy, but the scraps of encouragement he’d offered me had meant a lot.

It was a warm spring day, little buds and blossoms decorating all the trees, and the air was sweet.  Eric walked briskly, and I hustled after him, my semi-erection chafing my pants, my skin still damp from the shower that had ended too soon.  My skin smelled similar to the blossoms on the trees; as if he could read my thoughts, Eric shot over his shoulder, “That’s Virginia’s favorite body wash.  She’ll like knowing I prepped you for her.  It’s the little details like that that count.”

I nodded.

Eric stopped suddenly and turned to jab a finger into my chest.  “You’d better behave.  I didn’t get her anything else.  If you make me look like a bad boyfriend…”  He trailed off, letting the threat linger before he turned and continued on his way, leading me to the old brick colonial that was the headquarters of the Zeta Kappa Theta sorority.  “But, just in case things get intense, the safe word is ‘petunia.’  Got it?”

I nodded.  Petunia.  Right.  I was curious about why I’d need a safe word; I had been used by the Zeta sisters before and I knew what to expect.  It was often way, way beyond my experience or even my imagination, but I’d never regretted it.  In fact, the more intense it was, the more exciting and appealing I found it; I knew I was earning my stripes, living up to my family’s legacy, and that this was all part of the unique, intense training that Deltas went through to mold them for eventual greatness.

I had fond memories of the Zeta Kappa Theta House, and I gazed up at the building reverently.  It was similar in its design to the Delta Theta Kappa house, but most definitely cleaner; I knew already that a small army of specially chosen sophomores were decked out in maid outfits twice a week and sent over to tend to domestic concerns.  Fealty to our sister sorority was one of the foremost traits of our frat, and, from what I knew from the alum in my family, it offered big rewards for the guys who demonstrated that they’d earned it.  The women of Zeta Kappa described themselves, proudly, as “boss bitches.”  They worked hard and played harder; this was the sorority that churned out future CEOs, CFOs, business owners and entrepreneurs.  And the Zetas remembered the ones who had been good to them, who knew how to listen to direction and obey instructions. 

If you know what I mean.

As we approached, Eric slowed and clapped a hand onto my shoulder, guiding me.  I felt like a show dog with a professional handler, the way he led me toward the front door and knocked authoritatively.

A young girl, probably a pledge like me, opened up; she had huge brown eyes like a baby deer and a haircut with bangs that made her look like she should be in high school, not college.

“Oh, hi, Eric!” she exclaimed.

“Hi, Penny.  Is Virginia up yet?  I want to make sure her birthday weekend is a special one,” said Eric.

Penny beamed.  “She’s still asleep.  If you want to go get her breakfast started, your apron’s in the usual place.”

Eric’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and he led me into the sorority house.  Like the dorms, it was quiet on a Saturday morning; there were two sleepy-eyed sisters in the living room, wearing nothing but panties and t-shirts, sipping coffee and looking a little bleary.  I tried not to stare at the thin cloth stretched tautly over their chests.

Eric took me down a hallway with easy familiarity, and into the massive kitchen.  The build was old but the kitchen was anything but.  The ceilings were high, the ranged stove made of sparkling-clean chrome, the tiles glistening immaculately like they’d been put in a day ago.

Eric plucked an apron off a peg on the wall and pulled it on, tying the straps behind him.

“Alright, Vanderbilt, here’s the deal.  You’re going to be Virginia’s special weekend toy.  She works her tail off for this sorority, and since this is her birthday weekend, she deserves to be able to relax and focus on herself.  So I need you to obey every order.  Any order.  No matter what.  You got it?”

I nodded, watching as Eric opened some cabinets to retrieve pans.  He seemed to know his way around; I watched him pull a pat of butter out of the fridge and toss it into a pan, letting it sizzle, and then rummage through a spice drawer for some cinnamon.  He was apparently making Virginia breakfast in bed. 

“All weekend?” I asked.

“…do you have any exams coming up?” countered Eric.  I didn’t.  He knew it, and I knew he knew it.  I shook my head.  “All weekend, then,” confirmed Eric.

I squirmed uncomfortably in the kitchen, unsure of how to help or what to do.  I didn’t know where everything was like Eric, and didn’t know what Virginia liked or how she expected it to be prepared and presented.  This felt like a test.

It was kind of crazy how Eric could make me feel like he was in charge, when I was standing around doing nothing while he was making breakfast!

The only instruction he gave me was to pass me a length of blue ribbon while he was running around whipping up Virginia’s birthday breakfast for her.  “Here.  Put this on,” he commanded.

“Where?” I asked dumbly.

Eric gave me a stern look of admonishment.  “Don’t be a moron, Vanderbilt.”

I took the hint and unzipped my pants.

It felt like an eternity while Eric plated up a small bowl of fresh strawberries and cream, a stack of French toast, and a cup of coffee beside a cup of hot chocolate.  He placed it all on a tray and then offered it to me.  I took it gratefully, glad to be finally doing something.  The whole time I was a little bit hard, and the feeling of the ribbon tied at the hilt of my cock made it impossible to ignore how horny I was.

“Every.  Order,” repeated Eric, leaning forward and staring into my eyes intimidatingly.

I look down submissively, nodding.  “Of course.  Any order.  Every order.”

Eric clapped me on the shoulder.  “I knew I could trust you.  Come on, pledge.  Time to wake up the queen.”  He turned and led me out of the kitchen.  I followed dutifully with the tray, feeling curious about… well, everything.  Virginia and Eric’s relationship, what the weekend had in store for me, how Eric managed to seem so self-assured even while he was wearing a pink apron.

We tromped up to the second floor of the sorority house, a place that felt oddly sacred, a place I knew boys weren’t allowed except by invitation only.  Eric, as the frat president, apparently had special privileges, and I understood that I was his guest.  I gripped the tray of food a little tighter and followed closely, not wanting to get into trouble.  But I knew that it was going to be a long week ahead; the Zetas are famous for the level of discipline that they expect and exact from their lessers.  Next to Eric, I was less than nothing. 

It was thrilling to feel so insignificant.  I can’t really describe it; maybe I was still a little aroused from my interrupted shower, or maybe I was aware of the long journey ahead, that Eric had, at one time, been just as insignificant as me and that I was on a fast track to greatness as long as I behaved.  Who knows?  It was hard to think, in between the erection and the cinnamon-sugar smell of the toast on the tray I was carrying.

Eric stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall and knocked; a completely unfamiliar voice called, “Enter.”

Eric opened the door with a flourish.  “Happy birthday, my Mistress!” he exclaimed jovially.  I had never seen Eric like this; he lit up like a little kid on Christmas morning.

And the reason why was across the room, naked, in bed.

Virginia.

I nearly dropped the breakfast tray!  It was not Virginia.

Or at least, not my Virginia.

The woman who was sitting up in the queen-sized bed stretched her powerful limbs above her head like a lioness and yawned herself awake.  She was vaguely familiar to me, and it took me a moment to realize where I had seen her face.

In a portrait over the fireplace.  Virginia Bishop: Zeta Treasurer.  That’s what the plaque said.

I realized all at once several things I hadn’t before: that there was probably more than one Virginia on campus.  That the dark-skinned, dark-eyed, pouty-lipped, curly-maned aphrodite in front of me wasn’t some random sorority sister, but the sorority treasurer, one of the top, senior Zetas. 

That she wasn’t just Eric’s girlfriend, but his mistress, and he was her slave, and his demands that I behave went far beyond “regular” pledge duties. 

That, unlike the other Virginia, this wasn’t just a senior (which was pretty awe-inspiring in its own right!), but a major player in the Zeta queendom.

That I was probably in way over my head.

…you know how sometimes you get an erection at the worst possible time? 

Yeah.

Virginia could not have looked more different than what I had been picturing.  Even though she was in bed, I could tell she was tall.  Her hair had a hint of unruliness but it looked like she straightened it, and in its current state, it came all the way down to her elbows, though she had bangs.  (I wondered if Penny, the girl who had opened the door, had been inspired.  Penny’s bangs had made her look a little childish, but Virginia’s framed her face and made her look severe and cool and powerful.) 

Her skin was the color of walnuts, and her lashes were magnificent, so long that they could have been mistaken for fake, giving her deep brown eyes a sweeping, piercing look of pure intensity that made you feel like you were being X-rayed.

Eric put his arm out and waved me over; I obediently stepped forward.

“You said you liked redheads… naturals.  Is this red enough for you?” he asked, smiling slyly.

Virginia returned his smile and plucked a strawberry from the tray.  Her plump pink lips encircled it, sucking its sweet juice, and my knees trembled. 

This woman was going to eat me alive like I was strawberry, I was sure of it!

“You brought me a pledge for my birthday?” she questioned.  I couldn’t tell if she was upset, or amused. 

Apparently, neither could Eric; he looked a little concerned.  “I brought you… an experience.  A weekend for some self-care.  Baby, you work so hard.  You earned a break.  Corey here is going to attend to your every whim.”

It was the first time Eric had called me anything other than “pledge” or “Vanderbilt.”

Virginia’s mouth quirked up a little and her sharp gaze penetrated me as she looked me over.  “Very nice.  …I was worried you’d forgotten again.”

Eric barked out a laugh, a little too quickly.  “No, Mistress.  Of course not.”

“…and you made me this?” she asked, looking over the tray.  Eric had placed a small sprig of flowers in the corner; it was a visually pleasing meal, one that made my mouth water.  I hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“Just the way you like it,” Eric reassured her.

“Mm.  Good boy.”  She reached out and cupped Eric’s head, and he turned his face into her hand a little, like a well-loved pet, closing his eyes in ecstasy and nuzzling against her hand.  She sat up a little more in the bed, the thin sheets slipping from her body and pooling into her lap.  Her breasts were round and heavy like a tropical fruit.  I tried to look anywhere but her nipples, and failed abysmally.

Things only got more awkward as she pulled Eric down onto her bed and leaned over him, kissing him gently.  I stood there with her breakfast tray like some kind of deranged butler while she kissed Eric’s neck and jaw and lips, occasionally suckingly noisily and occasionally biting, which made Eric yelp in surprise.  I felt dirty listening to Eric, the frat president, yip like a chihuahua while his girlfriend bit him, but I didn’t dare leave.  Once or twice I saw Virginia glance up to confirm that I was watching, and I got the impression that she relished my attention and discomfort.

After a while, she nudged Eric away.  “My breakfast is getting cold.  …bring it over here, Corin.”

“It’s Cor–” I began.

Two sets of eyes narrowed.

“–in.  Corin.  Is my name,” I stammered, stepping forward.

“And why are you wearing all those clothes, Corin?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer.  “…you didn’t instruct me to take them off yet,” I said, finally.

She nodded her approval.  “Oh, that’s a good answer.  Very good.  I like a boy who knows his place.  Eric, take the tray and let my present unwrap himself.”

Eric accepted the tray from me and I stood at the edge of Virginia’s bed.  Despite being dressed I felt very exposed.  Virginia sat up in her bed properly, like a queen, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her breasts bare on her chest in a display of unquestionable power.  Beside me, Eric held the tray and watched.  I stripped away my t-shirt and folded it, buying time and building courage before I removed my pants.  Virginia laughed when she saw the ribbon tied on my cock.

“Well, well, look at that.  You really did remember, didn’t you!” she exclaimed, looking at Eric fondly.  “Hopefully he performs as good as he looks.  Slave, kneel.”

I knew, even though Virginia’s tone had not changed, that the last two words were directed toward me.  I knelt, and Eric walked over to put a foot on my back and push me forward so that my forearms were on the ground, too.  I heard a soft tinkle of chinaware as he deposited the breakfast tray onto my back, beside the bed. 

All this fuss, just to become a table!  Having the ribbon tied onto my cock and being made to undress had given me the very incorrect idea that I might just get to finish my morning goal after all.  I should have known better. 

This morning wasn’t about me… it was about Virginia.  And Virginia wanted to get up and wash her face, comb her hair, return and eat her breakfast.  All of it at an excruciatingly slow pace.

I knelt there like a footstool, staring at her carpet, my cock drooping down with a big blue bow tied on it, the breakfast tray on my back.  I was in a position where moving was out of the question; if I tried to get up, the plates and cups balanced on my back would spill everywhere.  It was as effective as tying me down with ropes!  I was helpless, and I had to kneel there while Virginia climbed from her bed and swept out to the bathroom with Eric in tow.

I allowed myself a small groan of frustration, but I bottled it up when she returned.  She was still naked, and I had front-row seats to the long, lucious expanse of her calves and thighs as they walked around the room.  But I couldn’t see much else.  Eric’s legs followed hers; he’d stripped, too, and his legs were pale and hairy.

The two of them sat on the bed, one on either side of me, and I braced myself in case they began cutting up the toast or moving dishes around.  If the tray fell, I knew who they’d blame.

But there was no such test; they seemed to have forgotten me, and I listened as the two of them talked quietly and intimately.  From what I heard, Eric fed her strawberries and asked her advice on upcoming frat events, while she talked about her pledges and complained about one of her professors.  Worry began to build in my gut.  What if they’d forgotten me entirely?  Was I doomed to prostate myself on the floor all morning, or even all weekend, a hard plank balanced on my back, my dick out and a length of blue fabric tied around it?  I felt ridiculous!

Just as my legs had begun to go numb, I heard Virginia announced that she was finished.

“Are you sure, honey?  There’s one more,” said Eric.

“No.  That’s enough,” she said sternly, and I could almost imagine her waving a regal hand to dismiss him.  The tray was removed from my back, probably by Eric, and I resisted the urge to straight up and stretch. 

I didn’t move.

I watched a pair of hairy legs, Eric’s, move around the room, putting away Virginia’s breakfast for her.

“Get up, Corin,” commanded Virginia.

I rose, wobbling.  My legs felt tingly and I wasn’t very steady; I tried to stand at attention but I could feel my muscles shaking.

Virginia smiled.  It was a very mischievous smile.  “I like your taste, Eric.  This one’s perfect.  He could use a little tenderizing though, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Mistress,” agreed Eric, returning her smile.

I didn’t know what “tenderize” meant but the way Virginia said it made me a little nervous.

“Fetch me my kit.”

Eric went to a large, old-fashioned bureau against the wall and slid open the top drawer, pulling out a flat black case.  My eyes followed him across the room as he brought it to Virginia.  She opened it slowly, enjoying the reveal.  I couldn’t look away.  Inside the case, held by a series of straps, was a host of instruments.  Some were familiar enough.  A small paddle, a small flogger.  Otherwise were things I’d never seen before: a device that looked like a pizza cutter, with a small, spoked, silver wheel.  Metal gauges and rings with wicked-looking spikes and long spoon-like appendages.  Rubber tubing and pumps that would have been better-suited to a doctor’s office or a mad scientist’s laboratory!

I resisted the urge to gulp.

Virginia fingered a long wooden wand lovingly.  “Remember this, Eric?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress.  One of your favorites.”

“You like this one, don’t you?”

“I like all of your canes,” agreed Eric.

“Let’s get him prepped.  You take the pump,” she instructed.

Eric pulled a clear plastic tube from her kit; it was attached to a short length of rubber tubing and a small bulb pump, and I knew immediately where it was going to go.  I reached down to remove the ribbon, but Eric snapped at me.

“Did I tell you to take that off yet, Corin?” he asked.

Oh, great.  Now I was Corin.

“No.  I’m sorry,” I said, letting go of the ribbon.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to move,” he instructed.

I nodded numbly.  Virginia rose; she moved like a dancer, on the balls of her feet, every step soft and deliberate and controlled.  I was terrified of her.  Slowly, she walked around me, the short wooden cane held in her hand, like a sorceress who was about to cast a spell.  But I didn’t move.  I don’t think I could have if I had tried… I was under her spell. 

She got behind me and I felt the tip of the wooden stick poke the middle of my back.  I tensed, expecting her to jab it, but she didn’t.  Instead I felt the cane caress my spine.  In front of me, Eric took my length into his hand and pushed it into the tube, pressing the end up against my groin to create a seal.  I had never done anything like this before; when he began pumping the bulb in his hand, I shuddered at the strange suction and the way it tugged on my cock.

It was so dehumanizing; jerking off was one thing, but having my frat president manually force me to get an erection… it was like I was a living sex doll!  I was already hard and couldn’t imagine being harder, but within a minute I was bigger than I’d ever been in my life, my cock thick and red and solid in the pump.

And then, without warning, the caning started.

Virginia’s short little wand hadn’t seemed very impressive, but the moment she struck the back of my thighs, I realized how foolish I had been.  The length didn’t matter, but how she used it.  (Was there a lesson there?)

The sharp, stinging swat of the cane on the back of my thighs made me jump and involuntarily thrust forward.  I probably would have cum but the pump had my cock imprisoned and the vacuum made it feel oddly numbed and stopped up, the way it feels when you have to sneeze but can’t.

“Did he go off?” asked Virginia.

“No.  He’s behaving,” reported Eric with a sly smile.

“Excellent,” she said, and slapped the back of my thighs again.  The wand left a line of pure, red pain on my skin, a lightning-bolt of anguish.  Coupled with the intense sensation on my shaft, I felt my brain go off-line, like an overloaded computer. 

Virginia’s cool hands ran down my ass and then over my thighs, electrifying the places the cane had landed.  The gentle touches lit up the marks, sparking an indescribable mixture of pain and pleasure.

And then her hands dropped away, and the cane returned.

How can I explain what it’s like to be caned by an expert?  I’d been paddled, and spanked, but Virginia was in a completely different category.  Every blow was precise and perfect; I wasn’t sure whether it was better to be rigid or to relax, but within a few slaps of her cane I no longer had control and it didn’t matter what I wanted.  My eyes watered and tears streamed down my face; I put my hands behind my back and gripped my wrists as if I could hold on to myself.  My cock was straining, my body shaking; I felt like my whole body was a wax candle, melting, and Virginia was the flame that was undoing it.

She whipped her cane against the backs of my legs until everything from my ass to my ankles was red-hot, and then, with a clatter, dropped the cane and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her body into mine and rubbing herself on me like a cat claiming ownership.  And all the while, my cock was in the pump, with Eric holding onto the bulb like a leash, in complete control.

“I love gingers; they get so red,” murmured Virginia.

“You could make a slab of rock red with your skills, Mistress,” replied Eric, giving the bulb a squeeze; I felt the pump suck at my cock, tugging it impossibly harder.

Virginia peeked over my shoulder and looked down.  “Very nice.  But he needs a ring; I don’t want him to cum yet.”

“Of course,” agreed Eric.  He let go of the bulb and it dangled from the hose, my cock still encased in the tube.  Eric went to her kit and fetched a black silicone cylinder; I spread my legs and shook as he knelt to work my balls into it, cinching my sack up against my body, trapping the impossible pleasure of the pump into my body until Virginia saw fit to release it.

“This one seems to know his place.  It’s a good group of pledges you’ve got, this year.  I really think they’ll do well,” observed Virginia.

“We’ll see,” said Eric, rising.  Virginia walked around and slung her arms around his shoulders, and the two of them began making out, kissing passionately, their tongues tangled into a familiar dance. 

And me?  I just stood there numbly, my body wound up as tight as a spring.

Virginia was the one to pull away first; she pushed Eric back onto the bed, and reached down to pull out a silver finger ring from her kit.  How to describe it?  It was made of several interlocking plates and covered her whole finger, and at the end was a sharp claw that sparkled.  She flexed her finger and turned, raking it down my chest, leaving a small, thin line. 

I bit my lower lip as she flicked a nipple.

“So, pledge, how committed are you to our fraternity?”

It took me a moment to loosen my tongue enough to answer.  “Entirely.  Mistress.”

“Is that right?”  She sounded almost bored.  “…Eric, show him.”

Eric stretched out a little, angling his body.  There, on his hip, was a small, red “Z.ΘK.”  A scar?  A brand?  I couldn’t tell.  I knew it was permanent.  I knew Virginia had made it.  I felt oddly thrilled by it.

“Are you going to– to brand me?” I squeaked.

Virginia tossed her head back and laughed.  “Brand a freshman?  A pledge?  Oh, my God, no!  You haven’t earned it yet, Corin.  We only mark the ones who have proven themselves.  The ones who want it.  Who deserve it.”

I felt the strangest flare of envy.  Didn’t I deserve it?  I was legacy!  (Part of me wondered, very distantly, how many others in my family had received this strange, secret honor.)

Virginia fingered the mark on Eric with her claw, then said, “I’m not ready for him to cum yet.  But you, Eric… well, there’s no sense in neglecting you, is there?”

Eric gave a soft, muffled groan and arched his back, his cock pointing skyward.  “It’s your decision, Mistress.  You’re the birthday girl.”

Virginia laughed and patted his knee.  “The birthday girl?  Eric, you’re such a goofball sometimes.”

Goofball?  I wouldn’t have described Eric as a goofball… although, around Virginia, he did seem to have a soft side.

Virginia reached out and grabbed the tube around my cock, giving it a sharp yank; it disconnected unwillingly, with a sharp “pop” that sent a jolt of pain down my shaft.  My balls tightened, trying to release the pressure, but I couldn’t cum and the pain throbbed and swirled around in my groin, a crazy sensation that was maddeningly close to something like pleasure.

“Come here.  I need my boy as hard as you are.  How are you with that mouth?” she demanded.

“Uh–” I said.  My face was wet; I realized it wasn’t just tears from the caning, but drool, too.

“Suck him off.”  The command was undeniable; I obeyed before I even realized what I was doing.  I knelt by the bed where Eric was lying, his legs still dangling off the edge, and lowered my face toward him. 

I hesitated, though.  I’d never done anything like this and knowing Eric, it felt… weird.  I glimpsed the little red brand on Eric’s hip, and that, more than anything, galvanized me.  I closed my eyes and leaned in, brushing my lips against his head.

I heard Virginia scoff.  “How’s he going to get hard like that?  Suck it, slave!”  She grabbed my hair and pushed my head down; I opened my mouth because it was the only option, and Eric filled my mouth, his thick manhood completely gagging me.  Virginia forced my head down and I gagged, eyes filling with tears involuntarily as Eric’s member bumped into the back of my throat. 

But then Eric groaned his approval and, once I began desperately suckling, I found that it wasn’t difficult; concentrating my efforts on his pleasure gave me a task, a purpose, and suddenly I felt as needy as if it were my cock I was tending to.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eric’s brand, and I felt… I don’t know how to describe it.  Honored, duty-bound.  Like this was my purpose.  Like being Eric’s slave was the next best thing to being Virginia’s, and that I wasn’t yet qualified for that particular position.

Sucking Eric’s cock while Virginia gripped my hair in her steel grip, I felt my eyes close and my body float with the satisfaction of fulfilling a purpose, and having a place.

If I had been doing it on my own I probably would have done it very differently.  Virginia held me down, forcing me to deep-throat him, to swallow the head of his cock and all of the pre-cum leaking out of it, and I gagged and drooled and made a sloppy mess of it.  But Eric seemed to enjoy it, because he grew thicker and firmer with every small choking noise I made.

Virginia pulled me back and for a moment, I licked at the air desperately, searching for the cock that had filled me a moment earlier, the sudden emptiness as shocking to my senses as the fullness of it had been when I first started.

“That looks good.  Eric.  Stay,” she commanded.

Eric laid on his back like a human sacrifice for Virginia, the long, curved length of his cock presented for her, his legs spread.

She pounced on him like a leopard on a gazelle.  I was only a foot or two away; I watched, awe-strick, as she sank her thick body down onto him, swallowing his cock into her.  She began riding him ferociously; her body slammed against his while I stared at the thick, symmetrical globes of her buttocks, my cock dripping strings of clear pre-cum all over the floor.  The rubber ring around my balls was torture; the blue ribbon was cutting into the swollen flesh of my cock, but I was paralyzed from this show of raw power.

Her back to me, her curtain of straightened black hair waving, Virginia rode Eric, moaning, raking her hands down his chest with her nails and her wicked claw drawing cries from him I’d never heard anything like before.

“Cum for me, slave.  Pay me your dues,” she demanded, suddenly, and on command Eric’s body tightened and arched up into hers, giving her precisely what she had asked for.

I don’t know how often Eric managed to get off, but it must have been a while, because the amount of ejaculate was phenomenal; it spurted out from the edges of her hole, frosting her lips and Eric’s crotch, evidence of an order obeyed.

I whimpered, my own neglected member thrumming with longing.  I could feel my pulse in my cock; I felt completely reduced to my desperate need to finish.

Virginia ground herself down on Eric, continuing to ride him, and Eric began to whimper at the over-stimulation, keening like a wounded animal.  Virginia carried on for several seconds before she rose, Eric’s spent dribbling out of her and down her thighs.

She pointed at Eric.  “Clean,” she commanded.

I was gripping my hands behind my back so tight my hands felt fossilized.  I couldn’t have held a washcloth if I wanted to!  But she wasn’t offering me a washcloth and I didn’t see one anywhere.

…oh.

I staggered forward and knelt, leaning in between Eric’s legs to lap up his cum.  Eric cried out weakly as I licked his cock up, removing the traces of his climax from his skin.

Virginia watched and, apparently satisfied at how I was doing, flopping down beside Eric, reaching over to tangle their hands together.  She spread her own legs.  An invitation.

I shuffled to the side once I was sure Eric’s body would pass inspection, and leaned in reverently to Virginia.  Her body smelled clean and fresh and sweet; I pressed my lips against her pussy and closed my eyes, relishing this reward.  Her womanhood was swollen and silky, and the taste of it, even full of Eric, was somehow sweet.  Maybe it was the memory of her cinnamon toast but it was the best breakfast I had ever had; I dragged my tongue through her folds, ensuring every inch of her slit was tended to, trying to communicate with my mouth my own gratification at being a small part of what I understood was a moment between her and Eric.

I didn’t stop until she gave me a small kick in the ribs; I drew back, panting, my lips swollen and raw, craving more.

“I could use another coffee,” she said after a moment.

“Do you want Corin to get it?” asked Eric.

“No.  I want you to get it.  You know how I like it.  …besides, poor Corin wouldn’t make it through the kitchen alive with a boner like that.  We’ve got a lot of hungry pledges in this house, you know.”

Eric laughed a little breathlessly.  “True.  I’ll get it for you, sweetheart.”  He rolled over a little to kiss Virginia on the cheek, and she smiled. 

She tilted her head up to look at me through heavy-lidded eyes, her dark lashes fluttering.  “He’s not bad,” she informed Eric.

“I thought you’d like him,” said Eric; he had risen, and was pulling on his clothes.  “He’s yours for the weekend.  Happy birthday.”

“Mm.  Not bad at all, even though I went gentle.”

Gentle?  That had been gentle?!  I trembled nervously, my cock still rock-hard.  I was at attention.  Not that I had much choice, really.

“Well, we have all weekend to play, don’t we?” said Eric.  “Feel free to go a little harder.  Corin here is a Vanderbilt.  You know what they say about Vanderbilts.  They’re ‘bilt’ for punishment… and they’re some of the best damn Deltas you’ll ever meet.”

Virginia smiled as she sat up, reaching to the end of the bed to finger her kit of toys.  “That’s perfect.  Eric, this was a perfect present.  Thank you.”

“Of course, Mistress.  I would never forget your birthday,” said Eric, and with that, he swept out, leaving us alone.  He gave me a sharp look to behave myself, but I didn’t need the encouragement; I understood already Virginia’s power and my place.  I was nothing but an object to her, to be played with like a cat toy.  Eric was her boyfriend and, although he was submissive to her, she enjoyed his company.  Me?  Well, I was just the birthday present.

The ribbon on my cock really drove that point home.  A reminder of why I was here and what my duties were for the weekend.  To please, to obey, to submit, to comply.

I stared mutely at the floor; in the presence of this woman, I knew I was nothing but a toy, and shouldn’t speak unless she addressed me.  Eric was one thing, but Virginia was truly on another level!  If I was lucky, and obedient, then maybe, just maybe, at some point she would let me cum… but I knew better than to ask.  I was there for her to use as she saw fit, and it would have been out of line for me to tell her how to use me.

I would be rewarded for my obedience.  I just had to be patient.

She sighed a little with satisfaction, stretching.  “This is so relaxing.  It’s exactly what I needed… a weekend of ‘me’ time!  It’s so nice to have some alone time!”

…I knew exactly what she meant.