For most college kids, when the weather starts to warm up, it means that summer is on the horizon and they can look forward to relaxing.  But if you’re a member of Delta Theta Kappa, then you know better.  Because at my frat, you never really get a break; you’re always in training, always in service, and always ready for anything.

When Eric told me I needed to come down to the common room to discuss preparations for the Theta Olympics, I didn’t even bat an eye.

I had a vague idea I’d heard of them before.  State has a lot of major events, all year round, and I come from a long line of Delta Theta Kappas.  Someone in my family had probably mentioned the Theta Olympics before.  Dad often reminisces fondly about his time on campus; before I left, he clapped me on the shoulder and told me never to turn down a new experience.

Once I found out what being a Delta Theta Kappa was really all about, I knew exactly why he’d said that!

In the common room of the Delta Theta house, I found most of my frat sitting around on couches or the floor, their attention trained on Eric.  Eric, the frat president, stood at the front of the room, holding a clipboard.  Behind him, on the mantle, were dozens of trophies; on the wall hung ribbons and medals.  I had never looked closely at them, but I realized that Eric had chosen to stand there to make sure all of us got a good, hard look.

I sat in the front, at Eric’s feet.  It was one of the only spots left in the room.

“The Theta Olympics only happen once every four years, just like the regular Olympics,” said Eric.  “They’re a really big deal.”

“Just like the regular Olympics,” I echoed. 

Eric leaned down to give me a smack on the head.  “Don’t be snarky, Corey!  I’m serious!  The Theta Olympics are basically a way to rank every sorority and fraternity in the tri-state area, by adding up all the golds, silvers, and bronzes that each person wins.  It sets the stage for aspiring women of power to prove their skillsets, and for those of us in service to showcase our obedience.  Last time, we didn’t do so hot.  But this time, with me in charge–”  Eric got a slightly gooey, distant look, no doubt picturing the glory of our frat winning a dozen gold medals.  Eric takes his job as frat president very, very seriously.

He shook himself out of his trance and looked down at the clipboard he was holding.  “I have everyone’s assignment here.  I think it goes without saying I expect all of you to bring home a medal–”

“I’m not really an athlete, though, Eric,” I pointed out.

Eric gave me another smack on the head.  “When it’s time for the Theta Olympics, everyone is an athlete, Corey!  Now stop interrupting!  Alright, time for everyone’s assignments.  Eddie… swimming.”

“All right!” exclaimed Eddie from the couch, pumping a fist.  Eddie is captain of the swim team; his assignment made perfect sense.

“Marco.  Relay.”

“Wait, what?” asked Marco, sitting bolt upright.  Marco is a freshman, like me; we’ve known each other since high school.  Marco didn’t do any sports in high school.

Eric ignored Marco’s surprise.  “Deshaun.  Tennis.”

“Tennis?  I’ve never played tennis before!” cried Deshaun.

“Clark.  Wrestling.”

“…Eric, are you crazy?!” cried Clark.  Clark is my roommate.  Clark is extremely brainy, and he looks the part.  He’s a glasses-wearing, shirt-tucking nerd.  And he’s an awesome guy if you need help with your homework.

…Clark isn’t exactly buff, though.

“Corey.  Archery.”

I had been ready to defend Clark and protest his assignment, but when I heard my name, my priorities shifted.  Clark would have to fend for himself; I had myself to worry about!

“Whoa, whoa, Eric.  I can’t do archery.  I’ve never even held a bow,” I said.  My voice was drowned out by all the other guys, also protesting their assignments.

“SILENCE!” barked Eric.  The room hushed.  “Bonnie and I chose all of these assignments ourselves and we guarantee they are the best possible ones for each event.  No complaining!  Remember the Prime Agreement.  Mistress Bonnie was very, very clear about who she wanted competing.”

We all exchanged glances.  It was one thing to argue with Eric, but Bonnie, a senior, the president of our sister sorority, was not someone we could push back against.  What the Zetas said was what we did.  That was the Prime Agreement.  If Bonnie told me she wanted me to ice skate, well… I would’ve started looking for a pair of skates.

The next few weeks passed in a blur, but the Theta Olympics never left my mind.  I asked everyone in the flat that I could think of if they had a bow I could try, but no one did.  I didn’t dare ask any of the Zeta sisters; I was too worried they would judge me for competing in an event I wasn’t prepared for.

Every day that passed made me more and more anxious.  I could tell Clark felt the same way; every time I came home to our dorm room, I found him frantically pumping weights, his face sweaty with exertion, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. 

The Theta Olympics was all anyone on campus was talking about.  Eric hadn’t been lying when he said it was a big deal; posters began appearing in the student center, in the hallways, at the bus stops, even on corkboards in downtown coffee shops!  This wasn’t just a campus event; the whole town seemed to be buzzing.  And when the week of the Theta Olympics came, the downtown strip closed completely.  White tents erected themselves in the streets and vendors began setting up.  I wandered down to check it out.  The alluring smell of fried food penetrated the air.  Up and down the street, booths showed off their souvenirs: keychains, wallets, pennants, t-shirts, hats, all of them with various Greek houses.  I saw my own, ΔΖΚ, and our sister sorority, ΖΚΘ.  But there were other Greek houses I was less familiar with: Iota-Epsilon-Nu (IEN), Iota-Epsilon-Rho (IEP), and Tau-Tau-Tau (ΤΤΤ).

“I hear the Triple Taus are really good this year,” said a voice behind me, as I looked at a booth filled with wooden paddles, the Greek letters burned into them.

I turned to find a mature Black woman in an acid-green summer dress, a ΖΚΘ baseball cap on her head.  The baseball cap seemed out of place; from her intense brown eyeballs down, she seemed elegant and fierce, like a tiger.  I felt my knees go weak.  After months of training to submit to Zetas, after months of following my frat’s Prime Agreement to obey the sorority sisters, I had been conditioned, and this beautiful stranger with her Zeta baseball cap made me want to drop to my knees and kiss her shoe.

Fortunately, before I embarrassed myself in the middle of the sunny street, a couple of familiar faces appeared.  My friend Mike, and his girlfriend, Geena, walked up; Geena hooked her arm into the woman’s, smiling.  “Oh, hi, Corey!  This is my Aunt Naomi.  She’s here to cheer on your frat.”

“Oh.  Great,” I said, feeling a little dizzy.

“I heard you’re competing!” continued Geena

It was like cold water had been splashed in my face.  “Uh, yeah, that’s right.  Archery,” I mumbled.

“Archery?  Why, back in her day, Helga won gold in archery!  Helga!” called Naomi.

A second woman appeared.  She was Naomi’s perfect, polar opposite.  Naomi’s hair was thick and dark, coiled atop her head in braids; Helga’s was thin and fine and so pale it was almost white.  Her skin was even paler, and even her eyes were a watery grey-blue.  She was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a button-up shirt that strained against her bosom, and while Naomi wore sandals to show off her polished toenails, Helga wore no-nonsense boots that looked capable of kicking in a door.  Naomi had a long neck and high cheekbones; Helga was stout, with a muscled, square body and thick features.  Naomi was a willow and Helga was a brick.  Both had the same kind of powerful aura, though, a vibe so similar that you could easily be tricked into thinking they were related somehow.

I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that both of these women were alums, expert disciplinarians who had honed their craft for decades and could probably control the entire Delta frat in their sleep.

“So, you’re doing archery, mm?  Very good,” said Helga, stiffly, looking down at me over the bridge of her nose.  There was a German lilt to her voice, a guttural accent that smacked every consonant like it was an insolent little worm.

I practically melted into the ground when a third woman appeared.  Taller than either of the others with silver-streaked hair in a bun, she wore a tweed coat and had on a pair of gloves despite the heat.  Tall and statuesque, she carried herself with an air of sophistication, like some kind of exotic bird.

“Oh, this is Aunt Agatha!” said Geena.  “Auntie Agatha, this is Corey, Mike’s friend.  He’s one of the competitors this year for the Deltas.”

“Hmm,” said Aunt Agatha, dryly, peering at me over the rims of her silver wire glasses.  “A competitor?  He looks like he might be better off as a judges’ boy, with that mouth.”

Mike blushed.  I stared, blankly, because I had no idea what a judge’s boy did.  Something with their mouth?  Maybe it was like a guy who yelled out scores or something?

“I– I’m going archery ‘cause Bonnie– Bonnie, she’s a Zeta, she wanted me to,” I choked out.

All three women nodded in perfect synchronization.

“Always best to listen to your superiors,” said Agatha stiffly.  “Well, Geena, don’t let us keep you from exploring.  Why don’t you take the boys around for a tour?  We wouldn’t want to slow you down.”

I didn’t think for a second any of them would slow Geena down; they all radiated intense, youthful energy, even though Naomi was old enough to be my mom and Agatha was old enough to be my grandma.  I was pretty sure all three of them could have outlasted me in literally any sport. 

But I appreciated that they were letting us college kids hang out together.

“Okay, Aunties!  I’ll see you for dinner tonight!” said Geena, kissing each of them on the cheek and then grabbing Mike’s hand to lead him away.  “Come on, Corey, let me show you around!  We can’t take too long, though.  The archery event starts at two!”

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned.

A distraction would be welcome; I was dreading my event, which I was completely unprepared for. I fell into step with Mike as Geena made her way across the campus toward the pool house, dragging us after her.  Swimming is a pretty big deal at State, and the pool house has two Olympic-sized pools.  All over campus, stakes with pennants on them had been placed; the pennants were all different colors and featured all the different Greek houses on them.  They flapped in the wind cheerfully.

As we approached the entrance, I saw Eddie walking in, already clad in nothing but a speedo.

“Hey, Eddie!” I called, breaking away from Mike and Geena.

Eddie raised his hand to wave to me, grinning.  He didn’t seem nervous at all.

“Hey, Corey!  Today’s the big day!  You excited to win a medal?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna get gold,” I told Eddie, maybe a bit sarcastically.

“Not with that attitude, Corey!  You have to have a winner’s mindset,” said Eddie, tapping his temple.

Easy for him to say.  Eddie’s the captain of the swim team, and he’s a master of his sport.  But I didn’t want to bum him out right before his event, so I just nodded and followed him into the pool house locker room.

In the heart of the complex, the locker room was thick with the scent of chlorine and the echoes of bare feet slapping on tile, lockers slapping, and bags zipping closed and unclosed.  The tiles shone with moisture.  Eddie dropped the duffel bag over his shoulder onto a bench, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head from side to side.

“This year, our frat’s gonna get the most medals ever.  I can feel it!” he informed me proudly.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was pretty sure we weren’t gonna get any in archery.

“I’ll be out there in the bleachers, cheering for you.  Good luck,” I told Eddie.

“I don’t need luck.  I’ve got this!” crowed Eddie.

I wish I had his confidence.

I left the locker room to get a good seat in the stands that ran along one side of the pool.  They were packed with people: students, teachers, alumni, visitors from out of town.  The crowd was full of people wearing hats and t-shirts, waving flags and cheering for their favorite Greek house.  In the front of the stands, right by the edge of the water itself, was a long table.  Five judges sat there, facing the water; I couldn’t see their faces but I could tell by their postures and the long, shiny hair tumbling down their backs that they were beautiful.  The table was covered in a heavy cloth, and the judges had their chairs pulled up to it, so that their legs and waists were covered.  I wondered if they felt hot; the pool complex was really humid and the sheet looked heavy.

As I was watching, a young man walked up to give all of the judges a bottle of water.  Then he climbed under the table.  I bet he had one of those little battery-operated, hand-held fans to keep them cool.

Still, I couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t need a guy with a fan under there if they just did away with the cloth in the first place.  It seemed weird and unnecessary.

When the swim team appeared in their speedos, accompanied by sorority sisters in one-piece swimsuits, I should have known something interesting was about to happen.

The crowd shrieked, the cheers echoing all through the buildings, but then went silent as the middle judge began to speak.

“Ladies!  Mount your swimmers!”

…huh?

With barely a splash, the guys of the swim team had slipped into the water.  After them came the sorority sisters, and, before my eyes, they pulled out a series of straps and reins, slipping them over the swimmers’ heads and slinging their legs over the swimmers.

I’d heard of water polo, but this was nuts!  The girls straddled the boys like horses, wriggling their hips to get comfortable, only a thin stretch of spandex separating them from the boys’ bare backs.  I watched Eddie enviously; in the water, he seemed utterly at ease, and even from the stands I could see him grinning as his “rider” ground herself against his back.

But as the swimmers lined up in their lanes, each with a woman gripping them with her legs, ready to ride them to glory, Eric appeared by my side.

“Corey!” he hissed.  “What are you doing, watching the events?  You need to get ready!”

“What?  But–” I began.

Down at the pool, someone blew a whistle, and with a dozen synchronous splashes, the boys kicked off from the wall and shot across the pool, gliding through the water, the women mounted on their backs slapping their asses to drive them forward faster.

Eric seized my wrist and yanked me after him.

“Hey, wait up!” called Mike, slithering out of the stands and hurrying after us.

“I promised Eddie I’d cheer for him,” I protested.

“Eddie doesn’t need cheering.  He’s got this,” said Eric.  That sounded familiar.  I guess everyone was pretty convinced of Eddie’s talents.  “If you want to cheer for someone, then cheer for Marco… that guy’s going to lose us the relay, I just know it.”

“But didn’t you assign him that?” I asked as Eric hauled me across campus.  From the track, I could hear a lot of commotion over there.  People were cheering.

Mike and Geena followed; I think Geena was making sure Eric didn’t bite my head off.  Eric can be kind of intense sometimes; he needed Geena’s gentle but dominant influence to keep him steady.

Eric paused at my question.  “Yeah.  …I don’t know why I assigned him that event.  It’s one of the hardest.”

A relay race didn’t sound very hard to me.  My curiosity piqued.  “How’s it the hardest?  It’s just a race, isn’t it?”

Eric heaved an exasperated sigh.  “Corey, you’re one of our legacy members, you ought to already know.”

“Can we stop by and take a peek?  Pleeeease?” asked Geena, batting her eyelashes.

Eric chewed his lip.  “Well… alright, alright.  Come on, let’s go see how he’s doing.”

I was pretty sure he was only giving in because Geena was smiling a knowing, sultry smile that could have melted lead. 

Thank you, I mouthed to her and Mike.  Mike grinned at me, and Geena winked.

Surrounded by grandstands, the oval race track was a dark rubber ribbon, its lanes marked with bold white lines.  In the middle was a perfectly manicured green lawn, where the athletes stretched and flexed.  Well… the girls did, anyway.  Tall, slinky warriors, their calves thick with muscles, stood at the end of the field, dressed in running shorts and sports bras that barely contained their voluptuous bodies.  The guys, on the other hand… they stood along the track, naked, shifting, looking nervous.  I spotted Marco near the end of the track, just a few meters from the finish line.

“There he is!” I exclaimed, pointing.  I waved, but Marco didn’t see me.  He was too distracted; squinting from my place in the stands, I could see that Marco was hard.  In fact, all of the boys were.  On the sidelines, I spotted Maddie, one of the Zeta sisters, and I got the sense she had been involved somehow.  At her feet was a duffel bag, filled with what looked like cock rings; she must have fluffed every boy up before the race.

For the first time, I was glad I was only doing archery!  The boys on the track looked so exposed.

“Ladies… take your marks!” called a ref, and the women at the end of the field lined up, one to a lane.  Each had four boys standing in her lane.  There was no baton in sight.

“Hey, isn’t this a relay?  Where’s the baton?” I asked.

Before anyone could answer… BAM!  The starting gun fired, and the woman surged forward.  The one on the outside lane got to the first boy; she seized his boner in her hand and began jerking him off.  One by one, the women came to the boys, gripping their members and hurriedly milking them. 

They were the batons!

One of them came; his Domme raced to the next one in line.  She’d taken a lead!  But the rest weren’t far behind her; one by one, each of their boys came undone in their skilled hands, and they ran to the next.  It wasn’t about speed, but skill; the faster they could bring their boys to climax, the faster they could move forward on the track!  Their hands moved as a blur over each erection, coaxing each boy to orgasm.  The crowd was screaming and cheering; the boys were embarrassed, but no performance anxiety was a match for the talented stroking of the sorority sisters.

Marco looked absolutely panicked; he was the very last one in line and so it was up to him.  Alashanee, a sophomore Zeta, was in the lead; she charged toward Marco and gripped his length, pumping him expertly, her gaze fixed on the finish line.  It was so close!

But a second girl, one from another school, had also gotten to the last boy in her lane.  She jerked him furiously; even from the stands I could see his knees were shaking.  He was close.  If she finished him before Alashanee finished Marco, then she would win!

Alashanee worked Marco faster, desperate to get him to finish; Marco’s eyes were closed and he was trembling.  So close!

The other girl suddenly reached behind her boy and pushed a couple of fingers into his ass.  He gasped so loudly I heard him, even over the cheering crowd; he spilled all over the field, and the girl turned and ran, bursting through the finish line!

Marco came a few seconds later, and Alashanee ran, crossing the finish line just seconds later.

The crowd roared.  A judge’s table was set up right at the finish line.  Five women sat there, the table covered with a thick white cloth.  The five judges had put their heads together and were talking quietly. 

On the track, the spent “batons” were sitting and kneeling, their cum splattered across their chests and thighs, looking a little dazed at the frantic handjobs they’d just gotten.

“The competitor from Pi Sigma Pi is disqualified – use of the prostate to evoke an orgasm is against the rules,” one of the judges announced into her microphone.  “The gold goes to the competitor from Zeta Kappa Theta!”

Alashanee jumped up and down, throwing her arms around another girl and hugging her.  Marco and the rest of the “batons” down on the field ran to her, clapping.

“We’re killing it this year!” said Geena.  “…my aunties told me last year, we didn’t do so good.”

“I heard that, too,” I agreed.  “So far everyone’s doing great.  …I’m just worried, ‘cause Eric assigned me to archery, and I have no idea how to do that.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine, Corey.  Come on, let’s keep walking.  You’ll only psyche yourself out if you keep thinking about it,” said Geena.

“She’s right.  Don’t think too hard, Corey.  Just remember the Prime Agreement and you’ll be fine,” said Eric agreeably, as if he wasn’t the one who was freaking me out over winning a medal.

We left the field behind, making our way toward the tennis courts.  I could hear a familiar thwack, thwack, thwack sound coming from the courts.

But it wasn’t the bounce of a tennis ball.  It was way more… fleshy.

We squeezed through the crowds, letting Geena lead.  The tennis courts had a lot less room for spectators than the track had, but we managed to find three seats that gave us a good view.  And what a view!  Each court was separated by a low net, but I couldn’t see any dayglow yellow tennis balls.  Instead, on each side of the court lay a frat boy, wrapped in rope, and standing over them, wearing short white tennis skirts and white visors embroidered with their sorority letters, were the tennis players.  They held rackets in their hands, their wrists cocked with reassured skill.

“I don’t see any balls,” I said.

“I see some balls,” said Geena, giggling, pointing to Deshaun.  Ah-ha!  Deshaun was lying on the astroturfed ground, face-down, his arms tied behind his back.  His legs were spread, his broad, dark-skinned ass gleaming in the sun.  He was completely nude.

The rackets, I realized, weren’t for tennis balls.

When the whistle blew, the two girls facing each other brought down their rackets.  THWACK!  The boys at their feet jolted at the blow.  The rackets left a criss-cross imprint against the tender backsides of the frat boys; roped up and helpless, Deshaun and the other boy on the court were soundly paddled with the tennis rackets as the judges watched on imperiously, making notes at the technique.

Just as with the previous events, the table was hung with a thick white cloth, and I could see a foot peeking out from under it.  There was a judges’ boy under there. 

“You know, they wouldn’t need the guy with the fan if they didn’t insist on draping those big white sheets over the tables,” I said.

“What guy with a fan?” asked Eric in confusion.

“…stop!  Stop!” cried one of the boys, and his Domme stopped. 

The ref at the side of the court held up her hands.  “Fifteen-love!” she announced.

“What’s fifteen-love?” I asked.

“The score.  ‘Love’ means ‘zero’ in tennis.  …kind of weird for love to be zero, huh?” mused Geena. 

“Wow, look at Deshaun go,” said Mike with appreciation.  Deshaun’s ass had taken on a purplish hue from the beating, but he hadn’t made a peep.  Between his legs I could see the long, thick curve of his erection; he was loving every minute of the ‘tennis match.’  Eric had been right to assign him tennis; the swing of the racket and the discipline of the sport had brought him to the absolute edge of pleasure and pain, and unlike the other contender, he was not going to get enough.  He would last as many matches as he needed to.  He was going to win gold.

“…kind wish I was doing tennis,” I admitted, turning a little red.

“Same,” said Mike, mirroring my blush.

“Well, I’m sure when Billie is done with her set, she’ll let me borrow her racket,” said Geena, kissing Mike’s temple.

On the court, Billie brought down her racket on Deshaun’s ass so hard that the strings broke.

“…never mind,” said Geena with a laugh.  She checked her watch.  “Oh, my gosh!  It’s almost time for archery!  Come on, we have to get going!”

My gut twisted.  “Let’s get this over with…” I sighed, trudging after them.  We squeezed our way out of the tennis court crowd to cross the campus; an archery range had been set up at the very far end.  I surveyed the scene; on one end of a long field were a few huge targets, and at the other, a line of hay bales.  On top of each bale was a bow.  I eyed them worriedly.

Eric clapped me on the shoulder.  “Corey.  Relax.  This event is easy.  All you have to do is trust that the Zeta sisters are going to take good care of you.  Okay?  I’ve got to go make sure Clark is at the wrestling match.  Meet me there when you’re done.  And make sure you get a medal!”

I winced.  “I’ll try my best.”

Eric didn’t look like he was very impressed, but he turned and left.  I turned back to Geena and Mike, but they were being approached by a tall woman with pouty red lips and curly brown hair.

“Here she is!  Geena, I’m Tara, from The Institute.  You’re the judge for State, right?” she asked, sticking out a hand to shake Geena’s.

My jaw dropped.  “You didn’t tell me Geena was a judge for my event!” I hissed at Mike.

He shrugged.  “Yeah.  Geena’s aunts are legacy competitors, and they recommended her.  Since she’s not in a Greek house, she’s more impartial–”

“Mike!  I’m already freaking out about doing archery, I’ve never even used a bow before–”

“Huh?  You don’t use a bow…” said Mike, looking confused.

“What–” I began, but Mike was being pulled away by Geena and Tara.

“Is this the judges’ boy?  Oh, he’s a handsome one,” said Tara, pinching Mike’s cheek.  “I can’t wait to be served by you!”

“He’s the best judges’ boy at the Theta Olympics.  Very obedient, too,” said Geena proudly.  “Mike, go get us some water.”

“Yes mistress,” said Mike, reddening and scurrying off to obey Geena, flattered at her praise.

A referee in a striped shirt stepped over to me.  “Corey?  Representing State, Delta Theta Kappa?”

“That’s me,” I said.

“Great.  You’re at number 2,” she said, pointing down the long field.  Each of the targets had a number over it, painted on a little wooden sign.  I jogged over to a bale of hay across from it; to my surprise, there was no bow there.  I looked around, catching sight of a familiar face.

“April!” I exclaimed.  I felt my face getting warm.  April is a freshman, like me.  We sort of have a thing.  But both of us are so busy with our Greek houses, we don’t exactly go on dates or anything.  Besides, it would be weird for a Zeta to only have one boyfriend.  And it would be weird for me, a Delta, to only expect to serve one woman.  As a Delta, all Zetas must be obeyed.

But even though I would obey any Zeta, well, I was really glad to see April.  There’s no rule that we can’t have a favorite mistress to submit to, after all.

April was looking beautiful, as always.  She was wearing a pair of sheer tan leggings, so form-fitting that I could see the soft cleft between her legs, and a burgundy halter top.  On her wrists were a pair of brown leather wristguards.  And in one hand… she was holding a bow.

“You’re doing archery, too?” I asked.

April gave me a funny look.  “You didn’t know we were doing archery together?”

“Together?  Archery isn’t exactly a team sport.  …is it?  I actually don’t know anything about archery,” I said helplessly.

April began to say something, but the ref for the event interrupted us.  “Hey!  You!  Delta!  What are you doing down at this end of the range?  Get to your target!”  She shooed me onto the field.

When I looked down it, I could see boys lining up at the far end, planting themselves in front of the targets.  Legs spread, backs straight, chins up, hands clasped behind their backs.

“We’re the targets?” I cried.

The guy next to me cocked his head.  “What, you thought were gonna let you shoot the bow?”  He chortled.

A mixture of emotions swirled inside of me.  Relief that I didn’t actually need to shoot any arrows… and fear that they were going to get shot at me!

I looked down the range.  A line of women with bows was there, giving strings test-plucks, examining their equipment.  They looked like Amazonian warriors, and I felt both terrified and very, very aroused.  The arrows, I saw, weren’t sharp; instead of having a pointy bit on the end, there was a soft ball, like a beanbag.  It would probably hurt like hell to get hit, but it wouldn’t do any lasting damage.

“Judges’ boy!  I need my pencil sharpened!” called one of the judges; Mike hustled past to help her.  He looked like he was getting a workout; they kept barking at him to fetch them things.  And me?  I just stood there, waiting.  April wasn’t looking at me; her face was determined and her attention was on her bow.  She had nocked an arrow and was pulling it back and forward, back and forward, getting used to the feel of it.  The way her skilled fingers played at the string was hypnotic to watch.

The ref walked down the line, a basket on her hip.  Inside of it were apples.  When she got to me, she told me to hold still, and placed one on my head.  All down the line, we stood rigid, a row of targets with bright, shiny red apples on our heads.

“Welcome, contenders, to the archery event!” called Tara, the judge who had greeted Geena.  I could just barely see her out of the corner of my eye.  I didn’t dare turn my head.  She sat in the middle, holding a paper; beside her I could see Geena.  Mike was sitting beside the table on the ground.  The table was draped with a white cloth, just like all the others, so I couldn’t see anything below the judges’ waists.

“A reminder on scoring.  The goal of this event, for our aspiring Dommes, is very simple.  Shoot the target to score a point.  The targets themselves will be judged on their obedience at remaining still, and their trust in their Domme.  Each flinch will result in a point being subtracted.  If, at the end of the round, there is a tie of points, then the shooter-target pairs will face off in a test of target endurance.”

So all I had to do was hold still and not flinch?  That… actually sounded easy.

I felt myself relax, just a little.  Looking down the field, I caught April’s eye.  She had widened her stance as she faced me; the arch of the bow was long and cruel, but she handled it with skill, and I trusted her.

“Round one!  Ready… aim…” began the ref.

I took a deep breath and let it out, slowly, as April drew back an arrow.

“Fire!”

A dozen arrows flew!  Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.  A chorus of sound as apples fell.  A few of the rangers missed their shots; nearly half the targets flinched viciously as the arrows slammed into the apples on their heads.  To the side, the judges were scribbling notes frantically.  Mike had pulled the table curtain over his head for shade; he was edging under it while the judges were distracted, probably so they wouldn’t ask him for more stuff.

“Cease fire!  Range clear!  …replace targets!”  The ref appeared again to put all the apples back on our heads.  I flashed April a grin.  So far, so good!  She’d hit the apple and I hadn’t flinched.  We were doing it!  Eric and Bonnie were going to be very happy with us.

“Round two!  Ready… aim… fire!”

I closed my eyes and felt a thump as an arrow sailed above me and hit the apple on my head, knocking it off.  Beside me, I heard a guy exclaim, “OW!”  His Domme had missed and he’d gotten hit in the shoulder.

I peeked open an eye.  We were two for two!  April was beaming.

The next several rounds went perfectly.  I stood straight and steady, while April plucked the bow string, loosing arrow after arrow, dropping apple after apple.  I found myself looking over at the judge’s table for their reactions; all of them looked impressed.  Well, all but one.  The one on the end seemed distracted.  Mike had vanished.  Or at least, I thought he had; I saw a telltale flutter of the judge’s table curtain, and I thought he must have crawled under there for shade.  It was a pretty small space for a big guy; he should’ve just found a tree to sit under or something. 

“Round seven!  Ready… aim… fire!”

I heard a thump over my head, but the apple didn’t fall.  April had missed!  The draw of the bow was heavy, and she was tiring.  Everyone was, probably, but I felt my heart skip a beat with worry.  I looked worriedly over at the judges.  Two were writing; a third was just sort of staring, a half-smile on her face.  It seemed like one of them was always distracted!  Maybe that was a good thing, maybe not.  I couldn’t turn far enough to see down the line of targets, but I was pretty sure April was doing really good.  One missed shot out of ten, that wasn’t a huge deal, right?

I managed to keep myself frozen for all ten rounds.  I didn’t relax a muscle until the final shot had been fired.  April managed to hit the apple eight times; she hadn’t hit me once, and I hadn’t flinched once, either.  Overall I think we did really, really good.

Over at the judges table, the girls were conferring.  One of them was rocking in her seat a little bit.  I hoped she was being careful, because Mike was still under the table, and from the way she was squirming, she might accidentally kick him!

The middle judge leaned forward to speak into a microphone on the table.  “There is a tie between two of the archers.  Belinda, representing Triple Tau, and April, representing Zeta Kappa Theta.”

The crowd clapped.

“A tie-breaking round is in order.  One shot, with contenders being scored on accuracy, style, and, of course, the reactions of their targets.”

I flashed April a thumbs-up.  She grinned back at me.

I waited for the ref to come around with the apples but she didn’t.  I looked around.  Beside me was another guy, an upperclassman, from the look of it.  He was a head taller than me with a dark crew-cut and huge muscled arms.  “Where’s the apples?” I asked him.

He laughed gruffly at me.  “No apples in the tie-breaking round, frosh.  This round’s all about endurance.”

“Huh?” I asked, but the ref was already calling out instructions.

“Targets!  Spread your legs!”

I straightened my legs, widening them.  Worry chewed at me.  If the target wasn’t an apple, then what was it?

…oh no…

“Contenders ready?  Aim…”

I closed my eyes and braced myself.

“Fire!”

Thunk!

A beanbag-tipped arrow hit me dead center between the legs.  I’d been whipped, whacked, paddled, pinched, prodded, and penetrated, but this was a whole new kind of pain.  My knees weakened but I forced myself to hold my stance, my balls numb, my groin aching.  I opened an eye and fixed my gaze on April.

For her, I thought.  For the gold!

Beside me, Mr. Muscles let out a high-thin whine, grabbing his crotch briefly.

Not so tough now, I guess!

“…end of round!  Judges?” called the ref.

I looked over.  We had totally won.  I had barely moved when April had slapped my balls with an arrow, the hardest ball-slap I’ve ever experienced.  Mr. Muscles had reacted.  So, I’d won, right?

Two of the judges were writing down their notes and scores; two more were conferring with each other.  But Geena’s eyes were closed!  Her face was turned toward the sky and she was relaxing in her chair as if she were getting a massage.  Where was Mike?!  Surely, if he were around, he would be telling her to pay attention!  Her face twisted a little with what seemed to be pleasure, and her thick red lips parted in a sigh.

She sat up.  Looked down at her score sheet.

…oh no.

The judges compared their notes, and then leaned forward.

“…the winner of the gold is…” began the lead one.

Please, please, please, I thought.

“…Belinda of Triple Tau!”

…no!

I couldn’t believe it!  I had been so certain that we’d won.

Across the field, April raced over to me.  I cupped my crotch, my balls still aching, but I staggered over to meet her.  “April, I’m sorry–” I began, but April threw her arms around my neck gleefully.

“We did it, Corey!  We got silver!”

“Silver…?  But–”  I stopped.  I had been so focused on gold I hadn’t even considered that we’d still get a medal for second place! 

Silver was pretty good.

For weeks, I had been dreading the event, convinced I wouldn’t get a medal.  But I had won a medal, after all.  Even though I was certain we had deserved gold, getting silver was still pretty impressive.

I looked over at the judges’ table.  The curtain fluttered; Mike was crawling out from under the table!  Had he been napping under there?  Sheesh!  He should have gotten the judges to pay better attention!

I couldn’t really stay upset, though.  April was beaming and hugging me, and the throb of my balls was fading to be replaced with… well, arousal.  Seeing April happy was everything to me.  It meant that I’d won, even if the medal was silver and not gold.

We stood on a dais and accepted our medals.  They hung heavy around our necks.

I limped away to find Geena and Mike.  Geena looked just a little breathless.

“Hey, what gives?  You seemed really distracted, Geena,” I said as I approached them.

Mike blushed.  “Sorry,” he said.

“Why are you sorry, Mike?  You weren’t a judge,” I said.

Mike turned even redder for some reason.  “Um, yeah, true.  I was just the– um, judges’ boy.”  He reddened even more.

“Sorry, Corey.  I tried to be fair, but maybe I was too hard on you.  I just didn’t want to be biased, since you and Mike are friends,” said Geena.  “It was my first time as a judge.”

“…naw, it’s okay,” I said, quickly.  “I got silver!  And from what I’ve seen today, our school is totally destroying the competition.  This might be our best year yet,” I said.  “As long as April is happy, then I’m happy.”

“…aww, Corey.  You’re a true Delta,” said Geena, grinning.  “No wonder Eric thinks so highly of you!”

“…wait, he does?”

“Of course he does!  …come on, let’s go ask him.”

Geena led me and Mike back toward the street fair but stopped at a big outdoor tent before we got there.  Under the tent was a wrestling mat, and in it, two women were attempting to rope up a pair of boys.  Both had been completely covered in lube and were as slippery as eels.  The women, wearing only stretchy spandex singlets, were trying to tie them up.  A digital timer mounted on the side of the ring was rapidly ticking away the seconds.

One of the boys in the ring was Clark!  I didn’t recognize him immediately without his glasses.  And the woman trying to rope him up was Bonnie!  He was trying to help her, but even the slightest movement made things worse.  Bonnie was yanking the rope tightly and swiftly, struggling to get him secured before he slipped out.

The other woman jerked a length of rope taut and the boy she’d been typing fell to the mat with a wet squelch, immobilized.  She stood over him triumphantly, planting a foot on his chest.  “DONE!” she shouted.

The crowd cheered; the timer stopped; the judges held up their score cards.

“…And the final round goes to Lila of Iota Epsilon Nu!” announced the ref.

We waited as the top three winners accepted their medals.  Geena’s three aunts appeared, looking approving.

“Here’s our niece and her little friend!  Did you have a nice time at the archery range, Geena?” asked Aunt Agatha.

“I had an amazing time!  But it was hard to concentrate.  Harder than I expected,” admitted Geena. 

“It always is,” said Aunt Agatha, wisely.  “Well, if that’s done with, we really ought to get something to eat, shouldn’t we?”

“Mike already ate,” said Geena, elbowing Mike playfully.  He went beet red.  I had no idea what she was talking about; hadn’t Mike been with us the whole time?  When had he had time to eat?

Geena’s aunts all giggled behind their hands. 

“I’m sure he’s saved some room.  Come on, let’s congratulate the winners, and go find a nice place to sit!” said Aunt Naomi.

Up on the dais, Clark and Bonnie had accepted their bronze medals.  Bonnie looked a bit disappointed.  I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to approach, if Geena weren’t leading the way.  But Geena strode boldly up.

“Bonnie, congrats!” she said, hugging Bonnie.  Bonnie was slippery with lubricant but hugged her back.  Hearing Geena’s congratulations seemed to soften her up a bit.

“Thanks, Geena.  I was hoping for gold, but–”

“Bronze is good, too, Bonnie.  It’s still a medal, after all,” pointed out Geena.

“Hm.  I guess that’s true.  I heard you were a judge and Mike got to be a judges’ boy?  Mike, how did you like that?” asked Bonnie, a glint in her eye.

Mike hid behind Geena.  “Good,” he squeaked.

I didn’t get it.  All he’d done was get them water and pencils and then just hang out under the table while they– ohh… wait a second– under the table– oh.

I think I understood what the judges’ boy did for the judges.

Before I had time to feel embarrassed, Eric appeared.  He’d been hanging back, waiting for a chance to speak to Bonnie; now that she was stepping down from the dais and chatting with Geena, he’d moved in to say hello.

“Corey,” he acknowledged me.

I gulped.  The silver medal hung from my neck.

His eyes trailed down to the medal.  I waited for him to comment.  To my surprise, though, he gave a nod of approval, and stuck out a hand.  I shook it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get gold,” I said.

“Corey, the medal is just a representation.  It’s not really about the medal.  It’s about obedience to the Zetas, and a demonstration of our submissiveness,” said Eric. 

“Everyone always gets so worked up about medals that they forget what the Olympics are really about.  Sportsmanship,” added Geena wisely. 

“Sportswomanship,” corrected Bonnie, looking down at her bronze medal with a half-smile.  Her disappointment was waning, slowly being replaced by pride.

“Did you make April look good?” Eric asked me.

“…yeah.  Yeah, I think so,” I said.

“And did she approve of your performance?”

“She was thrilled.”

Eric gave me an approving nod.  “Well, in that case, Corey… you’re good as gold.”