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The Initiate

By: Moondrift



It all began because of a parental concern for Alan.

"You know, he worries me, that boy," said Dan, his father.

"What worries you?" asked Delilah his mother. 

"He's nineteen and as far as we know he's never had a girl friend."

"Why are you worried about that? He's got plenty of time."

"Yes, but as far as I can tell all the other boys his age have been screwing...I mean, they've been sexually active for years."

"I suppose he's not in a hurry. Not everyone wants to start their sex life young. I think it's disgusting the way they just...just...you know...so young. When we were young we..." 

Delilah closed her mouth as she recalled that she had only been seventeen when Dan took her to the altar pregnant with Alan.

Dan gave her a meaningful look as he recalled the gorgeous girl he had impregnated in the back of his car.

"My God," he thought, "She's still a beauty at thirty seven. I'll have to remember to fu...to remember to let her know I still fancy her tonight."

"Del, you don't think there's anything wrong with him, do you?"

"Like what?"

"Well, you know, he can't get it...he's not interested in girls?" 

"Of course not, he's just...do you think there's something wrong?"

"I don't know...but by the time I was his age I was..."

"Married," interrupted Del.

"Yes, well, we've never regretted it, have we?"

"Of course not, darling. But just let him find his own way, he'll be all right."

"If you say so. Shall we have an early night?"

"I'm not tired, but if you want to..."

"Yes, I want to."

"Lovely, lets have a shower and go to bed."

For all Del's confidence about Frank, Dan's words troubled her. "Suppose Frank really is...you know," she thought. "True Frank has his studies, but other young men with studies seemed to be able to enjoy intimate relationships with girls, so why not Frank?"


Del's younger unmarried sister Anna was worldly wise when it came to matters of male and female relationships, and moreover, she was Del's confidant. "I really must talk this matter of Frank over with her," thought Del.

Anna usually dropped in for a talk with Del on Thursday evenings. On the Thursday evening following Del's talk with Dan, she consulted her sister. 

"Anna, he's nineteen and as far as we can tell he's never fu...been...er...intimate with a girl, and the way things are these days..."

"The way things were when you got married," interrupted Anna.

"There's no need to be nasty," said Del, "Dan and I were in love; it wasn't just casual sex."

"Humph," grunted the cynical Anna. "If he hasn't been with girls, perhaps he's been with boys."

"Anna!" exclaimed Del, "that's a terrible thing to say."

"Don't see why; but anyway, why are you asking me?"

"I just want your opinion. Do you think Alan is normal?"

"Well, may a bit unusual for these days, but perhaps he's got religion...wants to be a Buddhist monk or something; there's a lot of it going round these days and it can be very catching."

"I haven't noticed anything; you know...no incense or yellow robes, all he does is study and listen to classical music."

"Classical music! That's a bad sign Del. I've heard that during the Second World War prisoners of war used to take to classical music just before they went mad or tried to commit suicide."

"My God, you don't think he's going crazy, do you?"

"Well, not yet, but it's worth watching out for. Does he masturbate?"

"I think so; I've found handkerchiefs and tissues in his room that look as if they're got...got stuff..."

"Cum," corrected Anna.

"On them," finished Del.

"That's a good sign then, at least it shows his equipment is in working order."

"Yes, I suppose it is a good sign, but it's a bit like a soldier who trains and trains with his gun, but never gets sent to fight."

"Mmm," meditated Anna, "I don't think there's much you can do about it; sorry I can't be of more help."

"Oh well, I suppose we'll just have to await developments."

That ended the sister's discussion of Alan. They went on to talk about their mother's arthritis and what should be done about it.

During the following couple of months nothing further was said about the state of Alan's libido. Del continued to find sticky handkerchiefs and tissues in Alan's bedroom, and this consoled her to some extent.

Then during one of their Thursday confabs Anna complained about the number of house break-ins that were taking place.

"I'm doing this evening course on computer graphics and I really don't like leaving the place unoccupied."

"Aren't there people who do house sitting?"

"Yes, I suppose I could get on to one of the agencies and see what they have to offer; I might do that."

"Anna," said Del thoughtfully, "What about Alan?"

"What about him?"

"Well, he could house sit for you. He only stays home and studies in the evening except when he goes to the gym. If you wouldn't mind paying him something it'd help him out financially. He's only got his study allowance and what Dan and I can spare."

"Good idea Del, I think I'd trust Alan more than a stranger. Will you ask him or shall I."

"I'll ask him," replied Del.

On being asked Alan agreed readily enough. Of all his aunts Anna was his favourite. He admired her for her independence, her free spirit, and despite the doubts concerning his sexuality, he was sufficiently aware of females to note that Anna was rather pretty. "Besides," he said, "she's got a computer I can work on."

So began Alan's weekly task of guarding Anna's house from the depredations of the criminal classes. I add that it would have been a sad day for any housebreaker who tried to gain entry while Alan was there. He is a sturdy lad and well versed in martial arts.

He took with him to Anna's house any work he had to complete, together with a couple of CD's of classical music. Thus Anna's house reverberated to the sound of Bach and Mozart while Alan plugged away on the computer.

All continued in orderly fashion as arranged for four weeks. Alan arrived at 7 p.m., Anna departed some fifteen minutes later. Several Bach Chorales or Mozart Symphonies later, say around 10 p.m., Anna returned and Alan departed, slightly wealthier than when he arrived.

It was in the fifth week that things changed a little. Being a reliable fellow Alan arrived at the usual time. Anna departed at her usual time. The change came about when, only half way through a second Mozart Symphony, Anna arrived home.

"Lecturer's off sick," she announced. "That's sexy music," she went on.

"Ah...yes...well, I'd better go then," said Alan, and he went to remove the CD, but Anna stopped him.

"No leave it, sweetheart. I don't usually listen to that sort of stuff, but it sounds good, it makes me feel sort of tender inside. You can stay a bit longer can't you? We can have a drink."

Not averse to being in Aunt Anna's presence Alan agreed he could stay for a while.

"I'll just go and change then," said Anna, and departed in the direction of her bedroom.

Alan returned to the computer and continued working. He was tapping away on the keyboard when he heard Anna say just behind him, "Vodka and orange be all right?"

Along with the lack of exchanging bodily fluids with females, Alan's experience was also limited when it came to experiencing alcoholic fluids. Vodka and orange sounded okay to him, so he grunted, "Fine."

Now here we should examine Alan and his lifestyle a little more closely. It is true he was much enamoured of his studies in archaeology and anthropology, but this alone does not account for his lack of social, not to say sexual, contact. It was also true he was inclined to be shy and this did not help, but the real cause of his problem, if it was a problem, lay in a slightly different direction. 

To put it briefly, Alan was a voyeur. Now here I must be careful to define what I mean. He was not a voyeur in the sense of wanting to peep at people's sexual activities and sex organs. Perhaps I should say he was an observer. He was somewhat like people who viewed a stage play, seeing and hearing the actors move and speak, but not themselves participating.

He watched the people and world move around him as if he was watching people act out their lives. He noted and even made notes on what he saw, yet never him self stepped on to the stage to play a role. That might well account for his interest in anthropology. 

If I might be permitted another piece of imagery, Alan was like one who stood in a doorway looking out at the world as it passed by. Behind him were the old safeties and securities of childhood. He could turn back to those things of the past and hide himself from the passing parade with all its good and evil, all its loyalties and betrayals. On the other hand he could fling himself into the cavalcade that is life.

Some will fling themselves into the parade and be carried with it for good or ill. Others will make tentative moves, testing out the experience and often fleeing back to safety for a while, until one day they join the throng never to flee again.

There are others like our young man who needs someone in the passing throng to extend a hand and say, "Come with me, join us in this dance of existence." So far no such hand had been extended, or at least, Alan had not seen such a hand.

Now he sat at the computer, and after all, can that not be an escape in itself? 

Anna said, "Here's your drink, Alan."

Alan turned to take the drink and his eyes nearly shot out of his head. Anna stood there holding the glasses of drink clad in what I suppose is called a "negligee". It was of black material that was to say the least pellucid. Beneath this flimsy attire Anna was still wearing panties and bra, but even these were somewhat translucent and one might have thought it something of a miracle that the bras could support the ripe fruits that resided within the fragile cups.

It was not that Alan had never seen a woman dressed like this before. His mother tended to wear similar garments during times of relaxation. It was seeing Aunt Anna dressed like this that shocked him. He had always thought her pretty, but in typical Alan style, it was an objective view of her having little or nothing to do with carnal thoughts. 

For once he was shaken out of objectivity and into subjectivity. Not, of course, that the objective reality before him lacked any of the female enchantments, far from it. Her breasts as I have implied, were succulent examples of female mammary glands, with nipples ripe for tasting. Her sexual organ was of course not visible, but viewing the long shapely legs one might fantasise what delights might lie at the top of those thighs.

Facially Alan's view that she was pretty was about correct. She was no great beauty but neither was she ugly. A face perhaps a trifle too long and nose inclined to the Roman style. Her eyes green and hair black, naturally curly and worn short; her lips might have been described as soft and giving the impression of warmth, except that they tended to be a trifle serious. This in fact might describe her overall facial appearance, she had a serious aspect.

Perhaps I have been too critical for her face might not have been devastatingly beautiful, but what was beneath that face fully compensated for any defect the more critical males might have detected. In short, she had a body that would harden the penis of even the most world and sex weary man.

This was what Alan was seeing and was now experiencing those subjective thoughts and feelings that he had hitherto been a stranger to.

With a shaking hand he took his drink from Anna. He tried to turn back to the computer but Anna said, "For goodness sake Alan, stop playing with that computer and come and sit with me. We can enjoy our drinks and listen to the music."

"Er...ah...awright," gasped our confused and discomforted youth.

Not quite knowing how he got there Alan found himself sitting on the divan with Anna's thigh pressed up against his and her hand laid over laid over his.

They sat for a while like that listening to the music and sipping their drinks. Well, Anna was sipping hers, but Alan, unfamiliar as he was with the subtle ways of vodka and tasting only the orange juice, tended to gulp rather than sip.

Seeing his empty glass Anna refilled it for him. Alan got about half way through this refill when he felt glowing warmth spreading throughout his body. Anna had re-seated herself beside him and the thigh pressure was even firmer. He felt tender little pressures on his hand that sent via his brain urgent messages to his genital region. These messages were translated into physical responses that embarrassed him somewhat, but as the vodka did its evil work he relaxed a trifle.

Anna was on the sharp lookout for any signs of a response to her mild stimulation, and emboldened by the sight of a lump in Alan's groin, she began to stroke his hair and placed a soft kiss on his lips, briefly flicking her tongue over his lips.

She could feel Alan trembling so took the further step of addressing him.

"Alan, your mother tells me that you've never had a girlfriend. Is that true?"

"Awk...ah...yaes," mumbled the disorientated Alan.

"Don't you like girls?"

"D-d-don't know much about them."

Anna raised one of Alan's hands to her breast and said, "Darling, don't you think it's about time you found out about them?"

She pressed his hand over her breast, then taking her hand away was pleased to note that Alan's hand remained, still pressing. She rested her hand on his groin declaring, "I'd like to find out what you're made of, Alan."

"W-w-would you...h-how?"

Anna kissed him again, but this time forcing his lips apart to insert a soft exploring tongue. Alan vibrated violently.

"We could start by you're looking at a woman."

"I-I-I...er...have."

"I mean, darling, a naked woman." "Aaaark!"

Anna rose, removed her negligee and then her bras and panties.

Alan stared, spellbound.

"There, that's a start, isn't it?"

"Ah...yes."

"Now you can touch me properly, can't you," said Anna once more placing Alan's hand on her breast. "Stroke upward like this," she instructed, placing his hand at the base of her breast and slowly moving it up to finish with a little pinch on its pink nipple.

Anna pulled his face to hers and began kissing him again and this time she got some response. Alan it seemed was a quick learner once you got him started. His tongue slipped into her mouth and he began to do his own exploring.

When Alan became too breathless to continue the kissing Anna said, "Darling, men often like to lick and suck ladies nipples, and the ladies like having it done to them. Without awaiting any reply from Alan she put a hand under one breast, lifted it up to elevate its nipple, and pulling down Alan's head she pushed the nipple against his mouth.

Alan seemed to need no further prompting and sucked in the nipple.

For a while an air of contentment seemed to hang over them, and Anna stroked Alan's hair while he took pleasure in the pink little mound. But Anna was not the sort to waver in her instruction, and after a few minutes of this sensual bliss she decided the time was ripe for them to move on.

She gently removed her nipple from Alan's mouth and said, "Darling, there's something you ought to look at."

She sat up for a moment and placed a cushion under her buttocks and then lay back. She opened her legs in order to display her genitals to Alan.

"Do you like that, darling?" she asked.

Alan stared at the display somewhat unimpressed. What he saw was a wedge of pubic hair and a long slit between two plump lips. He hardly knew how to answer his aunt's question since what he had to say might not please her.

Then the transformation scene began. Anna's hands came down to her vulva and placing her fingers on its lips she parted them. Alan gasped with amazement as he looked upon that complex doorway to paradise that is woman.

He saw two little pink lips, shining with moisture. They seemed to flicker across the entrance to a dark tunnel. Above those lips he saw what looked like a fleshly cover, and as he watched, Anna raised the cover to reveal her clitoris. 

Now it so happened that Anna had a larger than average sized clitoris, and it gave the distinct impression that it was a tiny penis. She touched it with her finger and said, "That's very sensitive, darling and ladies often like to be kissed there."

In tentative fashion Alan leaned forward and pressed his lips to the little nerve centre. As he did this he inhaled the aroma that is peculiar to women's genitals. The musky odour assailed his nostrils and he had an urgent desire to do more than just kiss the indicated spot. As a consequence he began to lick it fervently and then began a frantic licking of the whole region. He tasted the salty flavour of female lubricant and this spurred him on to even more frantic endeavours, and pushed his tongue between the little lips to enter the depths of vaginal delight.

To this point only Anna was naked, and having had her fill of oral stimulation, she decided the moment had come to unbare Alan. She removed herself from Alan's now wild oral assault on her organ of delight and said sternly, "Come on Alan, let's see what you've got."

"Eh?" Expostulated Alan.

"Darling, get your clothes off, it's not fair me being naked and you still fully dressed."

A reluctant Alan stood up and very slowly began to unzip and unbutton things. Anna, impatient to view what might be available jumped up from the couch and hastened the disrobing process.

They had got jumper and shirt removed and trousers and underpants were half way off, when Anna drew in a sharp breath. "My God," she gasped, "you...you...oh my God..."

"Wasermader?" pleaded a troubled Alan, thinking his aunt had detected some deformity in his person.

Anna, realising she had caused Alan some alarm, hastened to amend the situation. "It's all right darling, you just took me by surprise. I didn't expect...well, it's so...did you know you've got a rather large penis?"

Alan, who had never been one to observe the penises of other boys, had no idea of relative sizes. Anna had a current lover with a 150 centimetre organ, and with this she had been very contented. Now she was gazing at an approximately 230 centimetre projection. Its girth balanced well with its length and the long light brown shaft was capped by a crown that gave the impression of being a purple plum.

In addition to this impressive organ there was suspended beneath it massive testicles. Anna reached down and tentatively touched them. They felt swollen with semen. She followed this by an exploration of his shaft as if making sure that what she was seeing was real.

"Yes, darling, you are rather large, aren't you?"

Alan had no idea that his organ was large, it having been that size since his days of puberty. "Er...am I?" he queried a trifle plaintively.

On behalf of other members of her gender Anna felt a little annoyed that this fine organ had been hidden away from them, so with great determination she finished the process of getting Alan and naked and said firmly. "Lay down."

She gave Alan a shove and he sat down on the divan. By dint of further prodding Anna got him in a prone position and came over him to straddle the tower of gratification. 

She poised her sex organ carefully over it and lowered herself slowly. She felt it touch her inner lips, and taking in a deep breath she let her self drop to allow the crown of the penis to enter her vaginal channel.

As it slid in she gave a whimper of ecstasy that was matched by a groan from Alan. He felt his length slowly being immersed in a soft, moist promised land. His imagination had never been able to conjure the true sensation of being swallowed up in a vagina.

Anna felt her vaginal wall filled by his penis and then it was hard up against the end of the tunnel. She remained unmoving for a few moments except for gripping Alan's shaft with her vaginal muscle.


The Initiate



I had been on campus for barely a week when I first visited Alpha Omega. I never had any intention of joining a sorority but Tammy, my roommate at Lincoln Hall, was curious and insistent. What could it hurt she pressed? Well, that was my fear. That it would hurt. I had heard the stories and seen the movies. The initiations. The paddlings. I wanted nothing to do with anything so humiliating. But it was pledge week. Everyone went. So we went. I was adamant, though. I was only looking. We'd have a few beers, meet some people, and after a brief visit head to one of the all night parties back at the dorm. 

Admittedly, at first glance it was a pretty cool house. We walked through a beautiful, artfully lit garden along a curvy walk leading us to a huge brick patio. It was packed with women, shoulder to shoulder, dressed to the nines to impress. Tammy and I too wore our slinkiest dresses, which I know sounds kind of queer since there wasn't going to be any guys at the party. But that was the expectation I was told. Alpha Omega was about image. Image attracted men. And men wanted sexy. I was just a curious bystander, mind you, but I didn't want to come off as a total dweeb either.

Tammy and I worked through the throng, located the beer tubs, smiled sweetly, and recognized a few faces from the dorm and our classes. Eventually we found ourselves inside what appeared to be the living room and, surprisingly, it wasn't too crowded. With elbowroom we were able to check out the dresses and hairdos. Some serious efforts here. Apparently we were getting the once-over ourselves because before we knew it, two very attractive girls - I mean women, well I don't know, they were juniors - came over and started in with the soft-sell. They were both very pleasant, and seemed sincere, but I always get suspicious about nice people. I figure they're up to something.

"I'm Francesca," one of them said. She struck me as the ringleader with exacting poise and eloquent speech. She wasn't condescending though or intimidating and her manner was easy, which I liked. "I'm President of the House." 

Called it! Two points 

The other girl, Dorothy, or Dot as she preferred to be called, was the House Manager. I wasn't clear what a House Manager did, but I'd soon find out.

Francesca and Dot gave us a tour of the House letting us "ooh" and "ahh" at the wonderfully decorated rooms and tasteful appointments. It actually felt quite comfortable and homey. Not too ostentatious and a damn sight less sterile than the dorm cells. I actually caught myself entertaining the idea of living in a place like this. Not as far-fetched as I thought.

There were two floors of rooms upstairs they said. We were shown the second floor. Eight double rooms flanked each of the two wings and two community bathrooms conjoined at the core. The facilities looked cramped for that many women but the fabulous period decorating made up for the size. 

Francesca said there were eight more rooms on the third floor. These were singles and the juniors and seniors got first dibs. She was about to take us upstairs to see her room when one of the sisters came down the stairs and took Francesca aside. They spoke in hushed voices for a minute. Francesca frowned and signaled to Dot and they started up the stairs.

"Sorry. Duty calls," Francesca said lightly. "Why don't you two go back down and meet some of the other ladies and we'll catch up with you in a bit." The three solemnly disappeared up the switchback staircase.

Tammy and I lingered, admiring the house more and more and started talking seriously about pledging it. I couldn't believe I was so easily swayed. I hoped it wasn't the beer fogging my thinking.

"I have to pee," Tammy said so she ducked into the bathroom. 

I've always been curious as a cat and wondered what the upper floor looked like. I figured I'd sneak a quick look while I waited for Tammy. As I reached the top step I could see the hallway was nearly identical to the floor below. Then I detected muffled voices coming from a door slightly ajar. Naturally, I took the open door as an invitation to step closer to better hear. Before I knew it I was at the doorjamb, my ears straining.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" It was Dot.

"I was embarrassed," a new voice said meekly. "I thought my parents would take care of it."

"This isn't a bank, Melissa."

Melissa. I hadn't met her yet.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"This has to be dealt with," Dot said sternly, sounding uncomfortably like my mother. "Right now."

"No . . . please don't. Not tonight. The party. Someone will hear."

"Now."

Well, I just had to see what it was that others might hear. I peeked in as far as I dared and saw Dot pulling an old straight-back chair from an equally old writing desk. Melissa, I presumed, stood off to the side, her hands wringing in front of her. She was curvy, not fat, and her outfit flattered a well-rounded behind and ample bosom. To diminish her hips, she wore a longish jacket with an abstract print that positively glowed atop her black pants. 

As Dot sat, Melissa took off her jacket, as if cued. She tossed it on the bed and to my astonishment, Dot reached out and unbuckled Melissa's narrow leather belt. She slipped it free of the belt-loops like a bullwhip and laid it at the foot of her chair. "For later," she said.

This was getting weird and I wasn't really sure I wanted to play voyeur to their private lesbo scene, but frankly I was transfixed. I had never seen anything like this before. Melissa walked around to my side of Dot and waited, her back to me, while Dot unbuttoned her pants and pulled down the zipper. My heart really pounded. With two hands, Dot pushed the waistband of her pants, with some effort, over Melissa's round halves, revealing white lace panties that barely concealed her bulging orbs. I was surprised when I spied the dark line of Melissa's crack through the meshy fabric and found it curiously sexy.

Melissa's pants ended up bunched around her knees and of her own free will she crawled over Dot's lap and thrust her bottom upward. I couldn't believe it. My worst fears were true. And yet, I had visualized a line of women standing in panties and bras with the senior members ceremoniously administering several whacks with a large, menacing paddle emblazoned with Greek symbols. This was very intimate, and personal. Somehow that made it less perverted.

I found myself imagining myself accepting such a fate until Dot started swinging. In a rapid series of volleys, her arm arced high then slapped her hand across both cheeks. Melissa was bouncing instantly, trying to contain her yelps and grunts. The rhythm was steady and the crisp smack of hand on butt sounded surprisingly reverberant. I stepped back and glanced up and down the hall, my stomach wildly flip-flopping, as I expected the party-goers two floors down to suddenly flood the corridor. None did. 

I heard low pleading and craned my neck into the room. Melissa's panties were now at half-mast too. Her jiggling bottom glowed with a pink hue and was getting redder by the second from Dot's unrelenting smacks. Mellissa kicked her feet wildly and I could see her fingers wrapped tightly around the chair rung; yet she stayed amazingly quiet. I'm sure I would have been howling. 

Dot paused for a moment and scooped up the belt on the floor. She looped it in half and Melissa's bottom clenched in anticipation. Unconsciously, I did the same. Dot whipped the thin leather into the air. It came down in a blur and when it landed squarely across Melissa's rump, I swear I felt the sting, too. When I felt it again, for real, I jumped. 

It was Francesca. She had come up behind me and stood poised for another whack on my rear. "Do you like what you see?" she asked.

I couldn't form words. "Me? I...no...I..."

Francesca stood with her arms folded across her chest. "You've been watching for a while." I felt a boulder in my throat. "It's rude to spy."

"I'm sorry," I rasped. "I didn't mean to look. I just . . ." 

"Let's go to my room and chat, shall we?" She said it so matter-of-factly I could think of no other recourse than to follow her.

Three doors down she opened her room, identical to Dot's except for the knick-knacks, and motioned me to sit on the bed. I complied and she closed the door behind her. Francesca came over and sat against the headboard, opposite the bed from me. She flipped her head sideways and her wavy golden locks swung across her shoulder, where they draped perfectly. She smiled.

"Listen, Susan," she began. "I like you. So do the other girls. I've talked to a few. We like Tammy, too. She's great. We'd like you both to pledge."

I was shocked. I had expected the boot. This was, well, so unexpected. Was this a gesture to cover up the secret scene I just witnessed?

She continued as if the past ten minutes never existed. "What do you think of the House, the girls?"

I didn't know what to say. "It's beautiful. They're beautiful, I mean, they're so welcoming."

"Yes, we're fortunate. We have a tight group here." She paused for a moment and looked me dead in the eyes. "What's your reaction to what you just saw?" 

"I guess I don't understand it." Truly.

Francesca, uncharacteristically bit her nail for a minute, pondering.

"I sensed that," she began. "Let me explain. With this many girls living under one roof, we need to have rules, order. The only way to maintain that is through discipline. In the past, we've tried consequences like fines and suspensions. The results were marginal, certainly no better than any other House. But we want to be more than just any other House. 

"About six years ago, one of our alumni, Miss Graves, became our House Mother. She doesn't actually live here, but visits twice a semester. She decided to try a new tack. The elected officers – the President, Vice President, and House Manager – were given, among other duties, the charge of discipline. By Miss Graves' standard, a good spanking is the surest cure for any prevailing ill. To keep it fair and above board, each girl who gets a spanking, fills out a report that describes the nature of her offense, her punishment, and her personal testament to the appropriateness of the spanking. These reports are sent directly to Miss Graves. We, the officers, do the same, detailing our viewpoint. Miss Graves reads through these and determines whether or not the incident was handled justly. If all is fair and square, no more is spoken. If, on the other hand, the miscreant appears to be missing the point or is unfairly accusing one of us of being heavy handed, so to speak, she gives the girl a ride across her lap on her next visit. Conversely, if it turns out one of us three are pushing a personal agenda, then we get a dose. Let me assure you, in my two years as President, I've had my bottom blushed on more than one occasion. We're all learning. And I can recall only one visit where nary a bottom was bared." Francesca gave me a soft smile. "Is this making any sense?"

I sat for quite a while absorbing it. "It seems remarkably...fair." It seemed like a good answer, but I wasn't totally convinced yet. "Still, it seems like an inappropriate consequence for women who are essentially adults. And you'll have to excuse me if this sounds off base, but it comes off as kind of kinky."

Francesca smiled. "Truthfully, there are a few who seem to relish a trip over the knee. But this isn't child's play. It's quite serious. And it's effective. Alpha Omega has the highest GPA of any House on campus, lowest turnover, and every graduate has her pick of job offers. It works. Don't those benefits appeal to you?"

"Of course. But...I don't know." 

"Susan, I completely understand your apprehension. Most of us had the same hesitation when we were invited to join." Francesca stood up and faced me. "Let's try something."

Uh-oh.

"Let's try a short 'test' spanking..."

Thought so.

"...so you can see what it's like, and then decide if you can accept the concept."

"Well, it's just so damn humiliating."

"To be honest, that's intentional. Another deterrent if you will. Look, opportunity is knocking. If you do this, and stick it out, as I think you will, your place is pretty well set on this year's roster. The question is whether there's someplace you'd rather be?"

She got me there. Everything she described about the sorority sounded wonderful: a success-oriented environment, a great house, nice people, and especially getting out of the dorms. But the spanking?

"Truthfully, I'm very impressed with what I've seen. And I like to think I have an open mind."

"So?"

"So, what do you want me to do?" I couldn't believe I said that.

"Oh, Susan," Francesca leaned over and gave me a big hug. "I'm so glad!"

She took my hand and pulled me off the bed to my feet. The butterflies in my stomach took off immediately. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, took my hand, and gently pulled me toward her.

"Okay, Susan, bend over."

I leaned forward and placed my hands on her firm thighs then crawled over until my hips were balanced on her lap. That created an unexpected connection to her. Was it physical? Or something more? I felt the blood rushing to my head as it lowered to the floor. I also felt Francesca's hand on my hip adjust me to a more comfortable position. It was a strange feeling being so helpless. It wasn't an entirely bad feeling.

Francesca's other hand slowly slid across my bottom. My dress was thin so I could feel the warmth of her palm through it. Goose bumps erupted all over my body. I felt her straighten the hem of my short dress and smooth the fabric across my backside. Out of nowhere came the first swat. More of a thud really. It didn't hurt at all, but it did surprise me. 

The next one stung, though, as did the next and the next and the next. Things were heating up quickly back there and I felt a prickle percolate across my buns. I couldn't help but squirm a little. This only made Francesca tighten her grip around my waist. Man, this was starting to hurt. I was having second thoughts about whether I had what it took to get into this place. Another year in the dorms didn't seem like such a bad option after all.

The without a word, she flipped my dress up to my waist, then yanked my panties up between my cheeks. I gasped at the rush of cool air across my heated skin. She began to really pound my bottom and kept tugging at my panties so they pressed against parts I became more and more distracted by. Didn't she realize what this does to a girl? 

The smacking sound reminded me of Melissa and I felt a wave of compassion for her. There was the connection feeling again. The next thing I knew my panties where around my ankles and my legs were nearly horizontal in the air. The sting spread like wildfire. Yet each swat pressed me against her lap causing an unfamiliar blending of sweet and sour sensations. The song, "Hurts So Good," came from nowhere and the chorus played over and over in my head filling me with feelings that were as conflicting as they were welcome. Finally, the stinging got so intense I pushed sideways off Francesca's lap to escape the blows. Rather than get mad, she held on to me. Then reeled me back in, but not for more spanking. Just to hold me in her arms.

"There, there," I heard her say softly as she rubbed her hands across my smoldering skin. I felt like I was on a cloud and her words drifted up to me. My heart raced and I breathed like I had run up three flights of stairs.

"That's a good girl," she said. I just moaned softly, almost a hum. I felt her fingers trace my crack from top to bottom then up again, slow. A surge of electricity shot through me. I moaned again. Couldn't help it.

"Susan, I'm one of those who relishes a good turn over the knee," Francesca confessed throatily. Then her fingers split me open and I felt everything gush outward - my breath, my emotions, everything. "Perhaps you are, too?"

Two fingers pressed expertly into me as her lips kissed mine and I began to quake. I rocked against her hand, wanting more. Needing more. Needing this place, my new home.

THE END