The Main story of this site: Contracts of Skin
A bump and the prattle of pebbles against the side of the van told us all that we had gone off the road. If I had seen where we were headed, I might have ran away. It wasn’t simply about the place either. Had someone told me right then what great-grandma had done so many years ago, there would have been no chance I would’ve even spoken to Morgan or any of the other Phi Gamma Omega girls. I understand now why they put us in the van. It had been so much more than another way to force us to endure shame. No, that van was there to protect us from ourselves so that we could become free.
The car stopped at last. The back door opened with a creak. We stepped out into a courtyard with cobble stone walls around us. All the sisters were there. Two of them closed a wrought-iron gate behind us. Before us loomed a large Victorian home. Its black shingled roof rose like steeples to the cloudy sky. Its two lanterns on the porch gloomed an orange-yellow. The front door reached an arch, and on a plaque I saw ‘H.G. Constructions. 1962’ -my family’s company. We had built it years before I was born.
The sisters guided us into a dark foyer. The lifeless air cared nothing for us, but the lit, wax dripping, candelabra right past the front door awaited us. Morgan took hold of it, and then distributed single warm candles to all the sisters. She led us through stairs and halls until we entered what I know now was a chapel. A great stone fireplace stood at one end of a five sided room. Granite statues of chained male and female angels stood in the other four corners. Floor pillows, a pair of red velvet couches, and some ottomans were the only furnishings here.
Any sane person would have panicked at the sight of the altar in the center: A black clothed miniature table. A bowl and a bejeweled knife awaited us on top of it. One of the big sisters stroked a fire in the hearth. As it heated the room, Morgan motioned us pledges to a couch. Then, she took the knife from the altar, held open her hand, and made a long cut. She winced at the pain. Blood dripped from her squeezed fist into the bowl. Another sister rang a bell. Its tone filled the room in a relaxing vibration.
“Mistress of Phi Gamma Omega, lady of hell, and our patron,” Morgan’s voice projected in the room. “This generation of sisters gives our blood, as our sisters before. Come to us and judge which of our lambs is worthy.”
I remember so vividly the next moments. Each sister silently walked to the bowl, cut her hand, and dripped her blood into it. When they finished, they dropped a match into the bowl. A pillar of fire consumed it in a flash. Bristol looked like a terrified rabbit. Yumi held her hands together in her lap. Me? Yes, my head was spinning, screaming at me to leave, to run, to forget all that I was doing. But where could I go? Already I was becoming free.
“All kneel!” said a sister who rang the bell a second time.
The sisters turned and faced the doorway. All of them took to their knees around the room. Yumi, Bristol, and I followed them. The sisters began a whispering chant. Then the bell rang again. Then another bell rang. This time it came from the other side of the door. The tinny sound of the bell echoed along with whispered chants. Then our door creaked open, and the girls went silent.
In stepped a barefoot, black-robed girl. She carried a goblet, decorated like the knife. The girls moved and made way for her. She looked down at Morgan, who glanced up to her.
“Hello Morgan,” the girl whispered. “It’s been too long.”
“Hello Kayla,” said Morgan. Her short words dripped with remorse. Morgan forced a posture of strength. Kayla stepped between the girls, clearing space, and she did so with a serenity none of these other girls would ever know. Morgan’s heart suffered, I could see it even then. Two more girls followed, dressed as Kayla. The clasps at their necks held their hoods and robes in place. It created a long vertical parting that revealed their naked bodies beneath. One carried a flogger. Another carried a set of leather restraints. They motioned all the sisters towards the edges of the room.
Then she entered. I know what she is now. She is who was summoned, who offered a pact, and who maintains her bargain year after year. A woman, tall and with black hair set against light skin. She wore her thick, shoulder length, hair down like a glamorous 1950s film star. Her irises were of no natural color and glowed with a faint violet. Her tight bodice accentuated her chest. A black skirt flowed from her waist into whispy tatters below her knees. Leather straps criss crossed over her feet and up her shins.
Wings. She had a pair of oily, dark, bat-like wings coming from her back.
I wished to run. My mind told me to do so, to flee from something so unnatural and terrible. Yet my body would not obey. Bristol jumped back in fright.
“No! What the fuck this isn’t…” Bristol shouted.
A sister grabbed her and covered her mouth. Bristol muttered further protest, but this strange women look at her -at all three of us- with a malicious serenity that compelled us to silence. Bristol knelt again, eyes still open in terror and her lips sealed tight. Yumi’s breath hastened, but like me she stayed still.
“You have called sisters, and I have answered. I ask you, have I kept my bargain with you?” the woman began.
“You have, mistress,” said Morgan.
“Do you wish all that I offer you? Do you wish your lovers to be your servants? Do you wish to seduce those who stand in your way?” She took strides around the room. Looking over the kneeling girls and gesturing with her whole arms. Her spread wings churned the air. “Do you wish for years of lust without trouble? Sex without shame? To use those who would use you? To hear minds and to influence them?”
“We do, mistress,” said Morgan. She stood up as did the rest of the sisters. She motioned us, the pledges, to stay on our knees. “We offer tribute.”
The women paused and the room’s fire crackled behind us. She smirked. This woman radiated beauty like a black hole. It was this aura that would have kept me on my knees all night. One that even then made me ever so wet. That dress I had on? Already I wanted to strip it off like a whore.
“So you’re looking good, Morgan,” said the woman, this demoness. Her voice became gentle and familiar, leaving the theatrics of the ritual behind her.
“Thank you mistress,” said Morgan. Her voice was rote and without passion.
“The internship after you graduate?” said the demoness. “You did get it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, mistress,” said Morgan. “I’ll be flying to Los Angeles in June.”
“And what’s going to keep those sharks in suits from eating you up?”
“The power you gave us, mistress,” said Morgan. She gritted her teeth.
The mistress laughed.
“I’ve seen so many like you, Morgan. Regret nothing. Forget your sunken costs,” she said. She curled a finger under Morgan’s jaw and raised her own smugly. “Guilt, sweetie, it will eat you alive. Eat others instead.”
She greeted many other big sisters similarly, asking them each about their plans, where they would work, and what they would do. I thought of the wall in our sorority house. These big sisters would follow in those women’s footsteps, sucking the marrow out of life with unassailable ambition. I learned how my sorority had attained such glories in that warm, insidious, chapel.
“Now who have you brought for me?” said the mistress at last.
“Pledges, stand up!” commanded Morgan. “Stand in the center.”
We stood up and stepped with trepidation to the center of the room, lined up in bewilderment. We stood still. I dared to glance at the winged demoness who strutted around us.
“Now let’s do introductions, pretty little lambs,” she said. She pointed to Yumi. “Names starting with you.”
“Yumi,” she said.
“Yumi Terese Allister.”
The mistress pointed to Bristol.
She aimed her violet eyes at me.
“Jasmine Haverton Vicinda.”
“A legacy,” I uttered.
“Right,” said the demoness.
She stepped around us. She tugged at my jacket and then removed it. It fell to the ground. Yumi’s fell next to it. The demoness pet our bodies with her hands and her wings, and even teased us with her undeniably hot exhales across the raised hairs of our skin. I don’t know if I could not move or if I didn’t want to anymore. When she cupped my chest, I tried to beg her to undue my dress zipper, and let my breasts be offered to her. Though those words stayed stuck in my mind. Already, I was becoming for her.
She put her arms around Bristol, and curved her wings around them both like an unholy cocoon. My mistress made the softest of kisses on Bristol’s neck, a peck so tiny, it was no louder than a rain drop landing in a puddle. Bristol moaned for it and gasped as the demoness stepped away from her. The terror in her wide eyes melt into a confused, and plaint, glaze.
“Fuck..” stammered Bristol. She undid the top of her shorts. Her hand went down into them. She touched herself in a fever.
“That’s it…” purred the demoness.
Bristol spread her legs and continued to caress herself. Her eyes darted around the room, and she was met only with the solemn silence of the uniformed sisters. One of the robed girls dragged a large pillow forth before her.
“That’s for you, little one. Get comfortable,” said the demoness.
Bristol dropped herself to the cushion. She undid her top and released one of her breasts from the bra. She got rid of her shorts next. Then put her hand back on her pussy, massaging it with a liberated sigh.
“You don’t come yet,” said the demoness. She walked to the altar and picked up the knife. “You keep pleasing yourself, but don’t you come.”
The demoness paced around Yumi, who stood as still as I did. Her chest rose and fell with terror. The demoness pressed the cold blade’s dull side to Yumi’s neck, who only craned her head higher and brushed her hair aside. With a flick of the wrist, the demoness sliced the cloth straps around Yumi’s neck. Her white top slid further off her chest with each other cut the demoness made.
Bristol squelched while she touched herself.
The demoness ignored Bristol and unclasped Yumi’s necklace. It tumbled to the ground and landed with a clink. Yumi’s expression melted into placidity. Her pupils opened as wide as unguarded gates.
“Jasmine Haverton Vicinda,” The demoness’s voice boomed in my head. “Stand beside Yumi here. Get a hold of her pussy. Both of you watch that slut over there.”
I cuddled next to Yumi. Her arm wrapped around me, holding me. My arm reached down and unsnapped the buttons at the top of her skirt. Some voice in my head told me that it wasn’t safe or normal. Wouldn’t I simply lick a big sister’s pussy and be done with it? I had been naked with these girls, but this defilement crossed so many more lines. Yumi didn’t stop me, but why did I do this? Was I doing it for my future ambitions? I had some purpose to join this sorority, but I was forgetting it. Because I was a legacy? That was a mere means to an end. The demoness desired this, and that single thought drowned out all others. My palm slid over the short coarse hairs of Yumi’s mons. I slipped my fingers onto Yumi’s folds and pet her.
“Yes… Jasmine,” she whispered. “Please touch me.”
We watched Bristol. She struggled, whimpered, and her eyes watered from the pain of denied orgasm.
“Do you want to come?” said the Demoness.
“Yes, mistress!” she declared.
“Can you come? Did I tell you I could?”
“No, Mistress!” Bristol’s voice strained.
The demoness squatted down. She groped Bristol’s trembling body, then took a hold of her nipple piercings and tugged. Bristol suppressed a scream of pain.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she said. Bristol gasped and cried out. Tears spread from her closed eyes. “I can let you come, would you like that?”
“Please let me come!” shouted Bristol.
“Oh, you’ll come,” said the Demoness with a playful tone. “You’ll all come. You’ll all be doing what I want tonight.”
She released her grip on Bristol’s breast.
“Orgasm, now!” she ordered.
Bristol’s legs shook in release. Her orgasmic screaming echoed against the hard walls. Drips of wet juices from Yumi’s pussy moistened my hand. My own pelvis sweltered with heat. I wanted Yumi right then. My teal dress became nothing more than an oppressive barrier between me and these sisters. Never, not once, had I lusted like this. This demoness, this horrendously gorgeous monster, had been changing me since the moment I crossed the threshold of this house. I loved her for it.
The demoness reached for the ties that held her tattered skirt in place. The robed girls knelt before her, one bearing the goblet. On instinct, I sat in reverence. Yumi did too. Bristol, still sighing from her climax, joined us.
“What comes at no cost in the world?” the demoness intoned.
“Nothing at all,” the uniformed sisters chanted around us.
The robed girls tugged away the demoness’s skirt, carefully folding it and placing it aside on a pillow.
“My power is a deep well of water, and I offer you all a cup full,” she continued. “Let lust be your leash. May you all live sweet, delicious, and enviable lives.”
The three girls reached to the demoness’s legs and hips and rubbed all around her pussy.
“And we offer lambs to you. One to be your thrall throughout her time in university. Choose well, our mistress.”
The demoness smiled and tossed her head and wings back. She groaned as her thralls caressed her. Then out of the top of her cunny, erupted a thick erect phallus. I wanted that strange, unnatural thing. Her entire visage, wings, hair, and that thick beautiful dick had a magnetic pull on my heart. Though her will invaded my head, telling me to remain on my knees. Those cloaked thralls took turns before the demoness, each one swallowing and stuffing that shaft in their mouths. Jealousy welled inside me, and the demoness could tell. She relaxed her body, and her thralls brought her to orgasm. First, the thick white cum fired in spurts. A messy splatter landed between the sister’s faces and the goblet they held. Then it came in steady pumps. Heavy drop after heavy drop landed in the goblet as the thralls wiped their lips. They wasted nothing. Kayla placed it on the altar.
The demoness made sweeping strides around. Wings whooshed and fanned us. With graceful movements that paid us no mind, she extended her hands out and downward as if controlling us by strings. Yumi and Bristol crawled forward to the pillows, both of them half naked. They went at each other in feverish lust. Yumi kissed Bristol from her wrists to her neck. Bristol rolled Yumi to her back, and her hair covered their passionate kissing. Why not me, I had thought right then. So stressed and anxious, I did not want to kneel and stare. My heart palpitated that the demoness did not regard me though it delighted me to see Yumi get out of even more of her clothes. Bristol straddled Yumi’s face, and Yumi lavished her pussy. It had to have ached. Yumi fucked Bristol with her fingers and pleased the clit with her tongue.
My mistress squatted behind me. She pulled down the back zipper of my dress. She slid her hands under it and against my skin. At last, she touched me. Her possessive hands groped all over my body. She grasped my neck and tilted my face upwards to her. Wings wrapped around me and she conquered me with a hard kiss.
“Mistress…” I said. I could not utter my desires fully. Bristol moaned in another orgasm.
“Yes, little lamb, you will please me,” she said. “It would please me if you consumed Yumi until she comes on your pretty face.”
She released me. At last, I undid my dress and my panties. It was maddening, that I spent so much time in anxiety and indecision about that outfit. I discarded it on the floor. No longer did its fabric bind me or keep me from pleasure. Something, some distant voice, screamed a quiet scream. It needed to know what was becoming of me, what would happen next, if everything would be perfect, if I would make the right class, and a dozen other silly thoughts. Yet that scream became so quiet and distant against a singular domineering thought: I would be for my mistress. It pleases to obey.
Yumi welcomed me between her thighs. The first taste of her tangy pussy juice touched my lips. Never had I tasted that flavor before. I took hold of her pussy, palming and caressing it, and it thrilled me to hear the sounds of pleasure in her voice.
“I want your pussy, Yumi,” I couldn’t believe I said such things. I hadn’t ever done this before. I fingered her, finding her clit, and then played with her some more. Her faced flushed in delight. The will to dive down on her could not be resisted even if I had tried. I found my face between her thighs licking her long, tear-drop shaped cunny as my mistress wanted. Yumi sweltered with juices there. So much that the smell and taste overwhelmed me. The novelty, and unnaturalness of everything that happened to me might have stopped me, but now I craved Yumi like I craved my mistress’s pleasure. Yumi’s pussy splashed juices onto my face. Oh the sounds she made when she came! Yumi forget everything except pleasure as she wailed.
We welcomed Bristol in and we became a pile of pulsating lust together. We’d been naked together for hours, though never had we become this intimate. I had no idea that lips on my clit could feel that good. Bristol yearned to please me that way. I liked holding them, and rubbing them. Each new way that we found to tease each other only energized our tired bodies further. Our orgasms, our spectating sisters, and the aura of our mistress, consecrated our threesome, in all of its depravity.
“Split yourselves up now, lambs,” commanded the demoness. We obeyed and departed away from each other. Oh, I wish I could have held Yumi for only a few moments more. Though I did not linger on that thought long. The thralls surrounded me and I knelt with instinct. They passed around the cum filled goblet. Each one took a sip and swallowed the pearls down.
“Now you,” said Kayla. She held the cup out to me and I took it. They’d left a lot for me. “All of it.”
If you had told me that I would ever do a thing like this, in this chapel, before these girls, I may have abandoned my destiny. Now, I know never to overthink, and life is only to obey. I took the goblet to my lips, held it bottom up and let the thick cool cum pour into my mouth. The sisters and the thralls whispered a chant. The cum! There was more to it than a sweet and salty taste or the texture as it slid on my tongue. My mistress’s cum took the evanescent, post orgasmic bliss in my mind, and stretched out its euphoria. When I handed the goblet back, I looked to Morgan. Her face looked like it had when Kayla talked to her. I didn’t know why she looked sad. What was there to be upset about? She could be jealous of me though it didn’t matter. I’d never been so satisfied and serene.
“The mistress has chosen,” said Morgan flatly.
“Hold the bell, sisters,” said my mistress. “This one is special.”
Gears creaked above from the ceiling. A chain descended from above us. One of the robed girls attached the cuffs to it. I reached for them and my mistress closed their clasps around my wrists. The chains tugged back up lifting my heals off the ground, forcing me to balanced towards my toes. My mistress groped and fondled me. Her nails scratched my skin. She twisted my nips as she had Bristol’s. Oh, it hurt so much. I loved it.
“Morgan knew I would pick you, Jasmine Haverton Vicinda,” said my mistress with sadism. “I will tell you why.”
Her cock teased my belly so close to my wetness. I lifted my leg to accept her and my mistress stepped back.
“Your ancestor called me here,” she said. “She was the first to ask for a deal.”
She undid the leather bracers on her wrists, dropping them to the ground. Her thralls unlaced her bodice. Her perfect breasts came out. I wanted to place my lips on her wicked nipples and make my mistress feel good.
“She offered her dorm roommate as tribute.” My mistress stretched out her wings and arms, displaying smooth and vivacious skin. “I still wear that body today.”
She held my cheeks in her both hands. Her violet iris glinted with a new glow. She struck my cheek with a mean slap.
“I gave your ancestor wealth, power, and luxury. Without me, she would have been nothing, another anonymous, helpless, housewife.” She stepped back and gave me another hot slap in the face. “Smarts though, she had on her own. She knew better than to allow her daughters to come to this sorority.”
The demon held out her hand. Kayla placed the handle of a flogger into it.
“I’ve waited over fifty years, and through dozens of thralls to take a daughter of Helen Haverton.”
She whipped the floggers tails back and forth as she stepped closer. The flying tails inched closer. I arched my back, offering my breasts. The tails brushed over my nipples. I wanted it. I stretched my chest out further forward. I needed to get beaten. “Beat me,” I muttered out loud in a haze. My mistress closed the distance. The lush tails landed on my chest with thud after thud. Better than anything I had felt on my skin until then. Each slap hurt and left an echoing sensation of agony on my skin. My mistress did not relent and the will to keep my body prone held me there. I yelped at each strike, and begged her to continue.
“For the next four years, you are mine!” declared my mistress. She stepped around me with the flogger. Strikes landed on my shoulders, ass, and thighs. “You will wear what I tell you to wear, or will be naked as I see fit. You will attend classes when I say and leave them as it pleases me.”
She gave a series of cruel slaps to my ass.
“You will fuck, who I want you to fuck,” she sneered. “You will seduce who I command you to.”
My chest took another aggressive flogging.
“You will reside here, cloistered with your sisters. You will sleep in a cell or in a cage, for no reason except my appetite,” she growled. She handed the flogger back to Kayla, then embraced me. Her nails tickled my beaten skin once more. Talons at the tips of her wings grazed my back side. Oh, it was wonderful.
“What do you say to all that?” she hissed.
“Yes mistress. I obey.”
“That’s right. Now tell your sisters something else,” she tugged the nape of my hair, directing my face to Bristol, Yumi, and the uniformed sisters.
“I love my mistress…” I pronounced.
The chain extended lowering my heels, then my arms, and then slacked to the ground in a cold rattle. The little voice didn’t exist now. There was not even a quiet screaming one. Obey the mistress. Please the mistress. Those thoughts echoed with every breath now. How I would please remained the only choice that mattered. What did my mistress want from me? On my knees, with wrists bound, I dared to take hold of her thick phallus. I licked it and sucked it, just as my cloistered sisters had done before. Would she give more of her cum? I didn’t know, but I needed her dick in my mouth. The way she moaned made me so proud and so free.
“You’re good at that, thrall,” said my mistress. “Touch yourself while you suck me. Get wet.”
I rubbed my clit. The pleasure of the suckling and the ache at my clit made me more lustful.
“Enough,” commanded my mistress. “On all fours, thrall!”
I assumed the position. My hips tilted upwards. My pussy dripped with juices and my mistress glided her cock over its surface. Then she penetrated me. That painful stretch from such a hard, warm, and thick shaft put me in a deeper stupor. My mistress fucked me like a whore. She rammed me with an aggressive fury.
“I love my mistress,” I stammered when she turned me over to my back. I could not get enough of her. Her chest shook and her eyes glowed as she rammed away within. I twiddled my own clit, bringing myself closer to climax.
“Not yet,” said my mistress. “You will come when I permit you.”
She positioned my hips to fuck me deeper. I’d become such a slut for her. The will to keep touching myself, while suppressing my own orgasm overrode the pain and tears. The fucking changed pace. My mistress moaned and her beautiful face blushed with her climax. She didn’t need to tell me. My body released in time with her, and gushed juices against the cock inside me. Her cum pumped inside.
She pulled out. I flopped down to the stone floor.
“Phoebe. Samantha. Take care of your new sister,” she said. My two cloaked sisters came to me. They rubbed my ravaged body with this oil that smelled like lemon grass. It softened that throbbing on my skin. I might have drifted off to sleep under their soothing care. Though I stayed half awake, and aware of all those in the room around me. My mistress had flooded my pussy with her cum. I enjoyed that my sisters saw it drip out.
One sister rang a bell.
Yumi and Bristol blinked. Bristol looked around with wide eyes. Yumi reached for Bristol’s hand. They both sat there panting. Were they afraid? No, that wasn’t it. Surprised. That’s what they looked like to me.
“Well bitches, get your clothes,” said one of the sisters. Yumi and Bristol grabbed the rags they came in with and held them in their laps.
“Now you, little thrall,” said the demoness. “What will you do with that precious dress you walked in here wearing?”
The fire still blazed. Its orange light beckoned me to do what my mistress expected. I gathered that coat, that dirty old pastel dress, even my shoes, and my thong. I tossed them one by one into the fire. So simple I became then. No more apprehension, anxiousness, or brain spinning its wheels so fast that I could not choose. There were no decisions now. My mistress had made me free.
“Morgan?” said the Demoness. Her glorious cock had receded. Her wings folded behind her back, while Kayla tied the back of her bodice.
“You’ve given me what I’ve wanted for over half a century,” she said. “Do you know Kayla’s time of enthrallment ends soon?”
“Four years as always,” said Morgan.
My mistress motioned Kayla forward and pulled back her hood.
“She needs to slowly adjust to life outside my cloister,” said the demoness. “I want you to take your old friend home tonight. She’ll please you if you want that, or not if you prefer. But you must share a bed with her tonight, and maybe longer.”
Morgan’s eyes brightened in surprise. Kayla stepped to her holding her palms out, and Morgan took them as if to lead a dance. They looked at each other for a time.
“You still there?” Morgan whispered. Kayla leaned in and the two of them connected lips. Morgan’s lashes opened wide, then she closed them as she explored the sensations. “I guess we’ll find out,” she said when they released.
Morgan then turned to Bristol and Yumi.
“Congratulations bitches, you made it. You’re full sisters now,” she said. The other sisters applauded. “How do you feel after all that?”
“You all did this too?” said Bristol. “Then I’m good. We can do anything.”
“I’ve wanted to be with women forever,” said Yumi. “That was my first time. I feel… well no one here can judge me, right?”
The sisters chuckled warmly. Morgan smiled.
“Yes, that’s how I felt too when I sat there my first year,” said Morgan. “Now you know our secret. Every year we pay tribute to our mistress. You’ll see these other girls around campus, in our sorority house and so on. They don’t belong to us anymore.”
She paused and glanced at Kayla.
“Now there is this door here that opens to the basement in the Sorority house,” she began.
My mistress turned to me and spoke softly.
“Little thrall, it’s time for you to go to bed,” she said. “Phoebe and Samantha will take you to your cage. Soon, I’ll prepare your cell for you myself.”
“Yes mistress,” I said. My robed sisters held my arms. They led me through the door and into the dark hallway. I became a cloistered thrall to a gorgeous demon. My mind became numb. My will was suppressed, usurped, and replaced with hers. What would become of me? I didn’t know, but placidity and pleasure soothed my once uncertain heart. No longer would I exist as I had before. I need only be for my mistress now.
Exposed to the hard spattering of raindrops, I had never been smaller than at my grandmother’s graveside. Grandma Carolina Haverton MacKinley herself was small next to my great grandmother, Helen Haverton, who took “Haverton-Gibson” as her married name. Grandma Helen worked her husband, an architect, to found a construction and real estate empire. She began in Portland. Our properties now dominated areas as far south as California’s Sacramento delta. My mother managed it now.
My mother wept at the graveside that year. Grandma Carolina had died a year after our congressman broke his promise to us. Despite protests, he had given rights to a defense contractor to build a factory west of Beaverton. Its disgusting fumes could be seen from our properties. My mother was so incensed that she challenged our representative’s seat the following year. Though it took more than money for a politically inexperienced, single issue, candidate to beat an entrenched politician. He had the support of his good old boys allies that went back to his Ivy league. Dejected, my mother conceded, and contented herself to withdraw our donations.
I knew then, as a shivering middle school girl, that my family would call on me. The terrible weight that I would someday serve Helen Haverton’s legacy confined my heart. One day too I would take over as my grandmother and mother had done. More though, I would have to exceed them. I would need a network as strong as our back stabbing congressmen. Our family and our city needed a Haverton in public service.
That had been my idea. I existed to prove myself and to carry the legacy. To begin, I began college with my long term purpose in mind. I must connect with best, and only the best. Grandma Carolina used to used to quote some old philosopher: ‘Know the fortunate in order to choose them.’ Therefore, the right friends would assist in my goals, but purposes had changed so fast. Pledge week had only been two weeks ago. I ignored every competing sisterhood and walked straight to the oldest one on campus, Phi Gamma Omega. There, I looked straight into the wary, regal, blue-green eyes of one sister.
“Yes?” she said to me.
“Hi,” I said. “Can I ask your name?”
“I’m Morgan,” she said. Her tone spoke so much more. As did her gaze. ‘Why are you talking to me?’ it signaled. ‘Why should I be interested?’ was written on her face. “Who are you?”
I had been nervous then. I fought a little battle in my mind even though there couldn’t be anything to worry about. Grandma Carolina used to tell me that people only know how you act, and never how you feel on the inside. So even when you trembled around that boy you had a crush on or how scared you felt to speak in a group, if you pretended enough, no one would know. Then you’d get what you want.
“I’m the next girl you will invite to this sorority,” I said standing as straight as I could, my face unwavered though my heart thumped inside me.
“Is that so?” said Morgan. “Now why would I do that?”
“My name is Jasmine Haverton Vicinda,” I answered. Morgan’s eyebrows raised. Her crossed arms relaxed to her side, and she prodded her chin.
“As in…” she said.
“Okay legacy,” said Morgan. Her attitude changed towards me. Instead of coldness, she offered a sliver of respect. “I’ll sponsor you myself. Though you’re going through your pledging process like any other, do you understand?”
“I think I do.”
“‘Think you do’? There’s no special treatment here,” Morgan said as she glowered towards me. “You will pledge like any other freshmeat. You will do whatever any other freshmeat does. If you don’t do what we want, then you don’t really want to be in.”
“I…” I began.
“Really, it might be best for you to walk away,” said Morgan. Her judgmental facade dropped for a split second. Was she testing me?
What was it I felt in that moment? I think it had been fear. I had been right to be afraid. If I stepped away, I would’ve kept on existing as normal, and joined some other sorority. I’d be partying between studies and giving head to cute boys and maybe a professor. Future lawyers, business magnates, and other influential people would still be among my peers. I could have walked away right then. This sorority was more than a mere power group. I wanted this and I was going to do whatever it took to live up to my name. Everyone named Haverton had done something great. Great-Grandma Helen would be proud.
“I’ll do whatever it takes, big sister,” I said. “I don’t want to be treated any different.”
Grandma Helen had been one of the first women to attend Granitewell College, a private school on the edges of Portland, back in the early fifties. She helped found the Phi Gamma Omega sorority, and later she met my great-grandfather. My family’s name preceded me. Granitewell begged me to visit by the tenth grade. Great-grandma had forbidden -with uncompromising terms- her daughter to follow in her educational path. My mother told me of the threats Great-grandma had given when she considered applying. Helen Haverton didn’t think anyone could do it.
I had struggled, but I knew my path. I would become the first legacy ever to join the Phi Gamma Omega women. So I had endured high school and all its abuses and applied to only one college. Nothing would stop me. Nothing would stop me from gathering that network of the fortunate. Resolved, I prepared myself for whatever Morgan had in mind.
There had been two other girls pledging that week with me. The big sisters had given us a schedule so strict we had to dodge our classes. When we crossed the antique oak doors of the sorority house, we were stripped of clothes and ordered to be silent. The sisters affixed thin canine collars. Each collar had a little dog tags declaring which big sister owned us for the week. We were shown the messy kitchen, the filthy bathrooms, and cluttered bedrooms. After we scrubbed and vacuumed the house, they threw aprons at us and sent us to cook.
They never told us why we cooked so much. They gave us no notice about the party they had planned. Guests arrived in the evening. We served food to guys I’d seen on campus and girls older than me. The big sisters’s boyfriends gazed at our nudity. Every second degraded us. One boyfriend reached out to Yumi, another pledge, to flick her small breast. His girlfriend slapped his hand away and clarified the no touching rule.
That’s when I knew my big sisters would keep us dirty little pledges safe. They take good care of their own. I’m sure Yumi is happy now. Bristol too. I’m even more so. Safer and happier than you can imagine.
That party had lasted late, and we’d been given cots in the basement. The three of us cleaned the next morning. Yumi had been sweeping the kitchen floor while Bristol and been gathering empty cans, paper plates, and even some random clothes. Bristol looked at Yumi and noticed the bit of jewelry at her neck.
“How come you still get to wear that, there?” she asked.
Yumi touched the pendent that hung from her neck.
“Come on, let me see it,” said Bristol. She stepped over to the kitchen and bugged Yumi.
“My big sister didn’t make me take it off,” protested Yumi.
“But you’re not naked then,” said Bristol teasing. “You get to cover up with whatever that little metal is.”
“You don’t think this is naked?” said Yumi. She stretched her arms out and whipped her black straight hair over her shoulder. Her nips pointed out against the cool air. The contours of hips and stomach shown under the light. “I feel pretty naked.”
Beyond the collar, the only thing on her body was that crucifix necklace.
“I think she looks more naked with it,” I said. “More naked than us.”
“Yeah, that’s probably why your big sister let her keep it,” said Bristol. She twirled back to the cluttered living room.
“So where are you from, Yumi?” I asked.
“Sacramento,” she began. Yumi looked at my chest then diverted her eyes towards my face. Then glanced away again. “Sacramento area anyway. Place called Citrus Heights.”
“Yeah… I wanted to come up here, because it’s far?” she said. She checked me out again. Out of curiosity, I rolled my hips in a subtle display. Yumi’s pupils dilated and then she glanced away again. My mother always said use your beauty whenever and on whoever. “I wanted to get in the best sorority I could too.”
She shifted her gaze to our wall of fame. One woman smiled in the robes of a judge. Another woman sat in a director’s chair. A third, smiled in doctor’s scrubs accepting an award for an innovative new surgery technique. This is what the women of Phi Gamma Omega became.
Yumi and I talked more throughout our cleaning shift. I remember thinking how beautiful her light brown eyes were. Her lashes and eyelids hinted at Asian ancestry. I couldn’t place where she might be from though. I only wished that I could have had hair as sleek as hers. Bristol’s eyes were dark blue, and her lashes spoke both come hither and I’ll cut you in the same blink. Her brown hair was held back with a clip that had her name on it. I guess that’s the bit of clothing her big sister let her keep. Metal bars pierced the nipples of Bristol’s full chest. They looked like they could hurt when I saw them. I wanted to bite them too.
“Philosophy,” I said when they asked me what I studied. “Minoring in English too.”
“Oh God, so do you love to study or what? Can’t imagine studying for fun,” said Bristol. “Missing classes must be killing you.”
“I can have fun,” I said. I cared about her opinion of me then. “Besides it’s about finding the right teachers.”
“Oh really? So do you know who is good for freshman English?” said Yumi. “Cause I gotta change my classes and I might get a new instructor.”
I didn’t. I didn’t know who had been the right teacher for me. When Yumi said those words, it struck me as to how I had suddenly overlooked the quality of my own Freshman English teacher. Anxiety struck me and it cut deep into my body. I’d researched all the right professors for my first two years, based on every rating system I read online. I’d examined some of the stuff they wrote and published because that’s what I was supposed to do. Though when it came to my Freshman English professor, a professor who would probably determine whether I wrote well or terrible for the rest of college, I had picked who fit in my schedule. I remember this sudden tension in my heart and an urgent need to do something.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Don’t know?” said Yumi.
“You could check Doctor Ellis,” said Bristol her voice was gentle and her eyes cunning. “She writes for magazines and stuff.”
“Okay,” said Yumi.
I cleaned up in a hurry that day. You see, I had to check for myself too. I left Yumi and Bristol and sneaked my way upstairs.
What I did then was silly. I know that now. Now I don’t stress about my classes or having the right everything. I go to my classes and then return to my cell. It’s simple there. Though right then, I agonized over the perfect teacher. Upstairs I found a computer and connected to my usual rating systems. I read everything I could about Doctor Ellis. I then looked up magazines she’d written in. I sent some to myself to read later. Then, when I read her third book review, Morgan hollered my name from down the hall.
“Freshmeat?” she said bursting through the door way. I had been caught on a computer when she expected me to be cleaning. Trembling and red in the face, I stared at my big sister’s furious expression.
“Pledge, what are you doing?”
“I’m on the internet.”
“And what were you supposed to be doing?”
“Cleaning the house until it sparkles, big sister,” I gulped.
“I see,” said Morgan. She slammed the laptop’s lid shut. “Come with me.”
Morgan took me to her bedroom. She opened a drawer and pulled out a paddle. She then put it back and reached in for another one. Holding the two in her hands she ignored me and then decided on the wider one with leather padding.
“Bend over pledge,” she said. “Turn around. Hands on the bed frame.”
“Yes, big sister,” I whimpered.
The first strike came in a wide, flat impact on my ass. Then my big sister tapped the other cheek. I embraced the second wet leather thud.
“Jasmine Haverton Vicinda,” sneered Morgan. “Did you get excused from cooking with your pledging sisters?”
“No, big sister,” I said.
Another strike came. I choked down a cry.
“Do you get to wear clothes while other pledges stay naked?”
“No big sister,” I said.
“Did you get excused from chores with your sisters?”
“No, big sister,” I said.
The next hit hurt. I cried out. Morgan leaned over me. Her hand moved up my chest and her fingers curled around my neck. Her face went straight to my cheek.
“You’re not special, little sister,” she said. “You do what I say, because you told me you would take it. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” I said.
I dared not move my hands from the post. Prone, I took another two firm slaps of the paddle. I’d never been punished before. My big sister loved meting it out. She surprised me when her smooth hands caressed my back, my chest, and legs as I was bent over like that. When her fingers made it to my bare pussy, I winced. The soft pinching she gave my outer lips relaxed me. It made me feel good.
“You will do whatever I want,” she said. Her fingers moved in testing my wetness. I loved every humiliating second of her prodding. When she pulled out, I almost pleaded her to continue. Instead, she put her fingers to my face and had me smell my juices.
“You like the smell of pussy, pledge?”
“Yes, big sister.”
“Would you eat my pussy if I told you to?” she said.
“Whatever you ask, big sister,” I said. I looked up at her, playing the part of the obedient pledge. I had suspected she would demand this, eventually. My anxious heart would not stop me. I would do it. I would do it until my big sister came to prove my dedication. It wouldn’t matter how degrading that would be. I existed for this sorority and all that it promised me. Nothing could humiliate me so much that I would turn my back. I was meant to be here. Morgan wanted it too. My gaze dared her, and even begged her, to drop her panties before me.
Only later did I understand why big sister Morgan wavered, stepped away from me, and ordered me to stand up. Air deflated from my lungs. Almost. We could have done the oral sex and gotten that test over with.
“You’ll eat pussy before you know it, freshmeat. I’d make you eat mine right now, but that’s not on me yet,” she said in a firm tone. Her words pushed down whatever her own cravings were. “We’re getting you pledges dressed up tomorrow night and taking you somewhere special. Then, we’ll see if you have what it takes to join Phi Gamma Omega.”
The next night arrived. Our big sisters had given us all simple instructions: dress in the hottest outfits you can. Though what had they meant by that? Club hot? Formal event hot? Trashy hot? All of those silly thoughts had run through my head as I tried on an outfit, removed it, changed again and then modified the look. I didn’t know what I was going for, and I didn’t know what was happening next. I only knew to get it right.
“Pledge,” said my big sister. She entered dressed in a sorority uniform, a dark sweater vest with green trim. She looked completely official right down to her knee height boots.
“Yes sister?” I turned halfway out of my previous outfit. I must have looked like such a mess. Too many things were complicated right at the beginning of the semester. Maybe it had all been in my head though.
“What are you doing?” Morgan raised an eyebrow at me. “I said put on your sexiest outfit, not a hurricane of half dress. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I stammered. “I have to look my sexiest. But what is it for? Who is it for? If I’m going to look hot I have to look the right kind of hot.”
Morgan raised her hand to shush me.
“Which outfit makes you feel the hottest?”
I stared at the mish mash of outfits resting on my bed. Morgan sighed.
“Okay, well the tube top is going to go. We won’t use that one,” she said. She took my dark green top and pushed it aside. “This single long dress? Yes, it’s hot and sleek, but it’s not working for what’s planned tonight.” She pushed that back into the closet. “I like this skirt.” She said tossing it to one side of the bed. “But we’re getting rid of this belt you have with it…”
Morgan went through my clothes one at a time, never asking once what was what. After a few rounds, she had me down to two items of clothing. My pastel colored, asymetrical dress. She picked a belt out for me to accentuate my waist, then tied the look together with a coat I’d brought from home. Picking this out would have kept my manic head spinning in circles for hours. She had made snap decisions in a matter of seconds.
“There,” said Morgan. “You’re sexy. Make-up too?”
The outfit worked, and I knew what tiny bit of eyeliner and lip stick I needed to complete this look.
“I know what to do for makeup,” I said.
“Good,” said Morgan. “By the way, you’re not wearing those cotton panties either. You got something hotter right?”
“Umm, in my suitcase still?”
Morgan opened it and went through my collection of lingerie bottoms.
I came down out of my room to the group of big sisters, the other pledges. I remember feeling embarrassed at being so late. I could tell by how the other uniformed big sisters eyed me that I’d taken way too long to dress. Bristol looked me over. She wore a tight top that emphasized her perfect cleavage and tight daisy dukes to match. Yumi wore a black pleather skirt with a white top that showed her shoulders. She kept her crucifix in between her perfect collar bones.
“You look good there, Jasmine,” said Bristol.
“Thanks,” I said. “Sorry for making everyone wait.”
“You can pick faster next time,” said Morgan. “Any last minute adjustments, pledges? Are you at your hottest?”
“Will we be… outside?” said Yumi.
Morgan and the other big sisters looked at her outfit.
“Yeah, she could use a jacket too,” said another big sister. Yumi looked at them unsure.
“Yes, Yumi, go upstairs and be quick,” said another sister. Yumi scampered upstairs to her room. She returned down with a wind breaker.
“Perfect. Sisters, remove their collars,” said Morgan. “You freshmeat bitches? Come to the garage.”
We walked down the hill outside our Sorority house, around a parking lot, and to the garage shed. The wet asphalt glistened against the yellow of the night’s street lamps. The cloud cover hid the sky as always. Rain was light tonight. The shed itself? It frightened enough with its old peeling paint and its walls covered with decaying vines. The sisters opened it. Inside there was a windowless van. Morgan opened the back doors to reveal a pristine interior of metal as clean as a mortician’s table. A row of seats with constricting seat belts awaited us.
“Get in bitches,” commanded one of the sisters. The Haverton women needed political power someday. Remembering that, I refused to hesitate. I sat down and buckled myself in. Yumi and Bristol followed me. The doors closed with a clunk. We were in darkness except for the pale blue of the interior light. Even the window to the driver’s seat in front had been closed. The engine hummed and the van moved.
It might have been minutes. It might have been hours. I don’t remember anymore. The van bumped over potholes. We had a sense that we traveled on a highway. All throughout that ride, my heart pounded. Not so much out of being scared, although I had been that too. No, my heart beat out of confusion at what I had went through. Less than an hour prior I had stressed about small things like what to put on. Later, I was getting driven in a cage of a van, yet I existed in simplicity.
“Where are they taking us?” said Bristol. Her eyes darted around, as if looking for a tiny crack of light, or a window, or anything. Bristol couldn’t handle confinement too well. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t been chosen in the end.
“I don’t know,” said Yumi.
“Do you?” said Bristol. She said pointing at me. “Your grandma or someone is up on wall. I’ve seen her!”
“I don’t know… Bristol,” I said.
“Yes you do,” she insisted. “Come on! Tell us what they’re going to do!”
“I honestly don’t know!” I declared. I raised my hands up in protest.
“We’ll be safe, Bristol,” said Yumi. “We’re almost done. I know it. Don’t you?”
“But where are we going?” said Bristol. Slight beads of sweat appeared at her neck.
“Bristol,” said Yumi. She took Bristol’s hand and held it, “We’ll be full sisters soon. Don’t you want that?”
Bristol calmed down.
“You know I never left my state before coming out here,” said Yumi. “I almost didn’t want to come all the way up here either. I thought I’d attend a community college, then go to the same UC my sister did, forty minutes from home.”
“You got nervous and went anyway,” I said.
“Thanks,” smiled Yumi. “I wanted to explore the northwest. So I’m here.”
“Alright,” said Bristol calming down. “Okay. I can’t wait for air.”
I reached out for Bristol’s other hand. She took it and squeezed. The tension in her diffused between all three of us. Nervous and unburdened, we rode in silence.