I had to admit that it sounded a bit silly to me at first. It was a fraternity, right? There would be a little hazing, some kind of initiation, and then we would be welcome members of the local Greek community. Well, as it turned out, I had picked something very different from your standard glorified party club. How was I to know that when I joined them?
A part of me suspected that I was admitted to Sigma Omega Sigma because I was older than most and had the proper ID to be a great straw buyer of booze. None of that would be among the official reasons, of course, but I wasn’t a fool. I’d been in the Navy and secured a college fund between its program and my savings. I was still in the Reserve, naturally. I’d seen more hazing in boot camp than most Greek organizations could imagine, delivered by drill instructors who knew how to really weed out the unfit. I was a man and most of my classmates were still youths.
What I didn’t know, I quickly found out on day one of the “orientation”, a code name for initiation that had supposedly been banned by the administration. I learned much that morning, when I was roused from my bed on a Saturday morning and led blindfolded to a vault underneath the main fraternity hall. It was a day that would transform me forever, in a very fortunate way.
When my blindfold was removed, I saw a naked woman, her eyes covered up as well. In front of her stood a tall, equally naked guy with a whip. Her mouth was engaged in sucking his cock and there were marks from the whip across her back and buttocks. I saw cum leaking from her other holes, proving that she had already been fucked every way possible as well as whipped.
“Alright, lads. Step right up and take your pleasure. There are some rules, however. Rule one: no rubbers here in Covenant Hall. We at Sigma Omega Sigma reserve such things for liars, women whom we can’t trust. Heather here can be trusted. She lives to serve us, don’t you, Heather? That’s a good girl. You, there. You look slightly older than most. What’s your name? Tell it to Heather, right before you fuck her,” the man with the whip pointed it at me.
“I’m Mark. Should I say my last name, too?” I asked the stranger.
“No. That’s rule two: no last names here. We are all brothers. We pledge our sacred honor to this covenant, that we are of the same blood and the same heart. First names only. Very well, you have told Heather that you are Mark. You will fuck her, either in the cunt or the ass. Rule three: we never call it a pussy. It’s always a cunt. Why? Because that’s derived from the Latin root ‘cunnus’, an older and less mushy term for that part of the woman’s anatomy. Now, fuck her, Mark,” he directed me.
I had to admit that I was hard as granite from seeing the woman’s naked ass. The fact that she had been whipped and didn’t seem to hold it against her assailant was also a real turn-on. Her willingness to suck a man’s dick didn’t hurt, either. I approached her and put aside all fears of social diseases and such. I had committed myself to this brotherhood for at least a term, and I should see it through. I didn’t quit the Navy in spite of my fears, so why would I let something easy like this stop me?
My cock buried itself into Heather’s asshole, since I had gone far too long without anal sex. My last girlfriend had seen to that, with her hatred of sodomy. Well, that was only one of the reasons why she was my ex. I needed to get that urge out of my system and Heather was an easy channel for my lust. I grasped her now crimson cheeks while I buggered her, intensifying her pain as well as her evident pleasure. I realized then that she was a pain slut. She loved it when someone hurt her.