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Erica Versus The House

By: Smokey125



SS35: "Erica Versus The House"

***

A bit of this story is my salute and love letter to (later) '80s pop culture. Hope you like it. That being said, as to the sex parts—

This was tricky to categorize. I labeled it under Non-Con, because it's the most fitting and accurate for this story. I was going to label it Lesbian Sex, because that's what's technically going on at the end, but the girls involved aren't exactly gay. The title character is 100% straight, and the others are mostly bisexual. Perhaps it should have been BDSM instead, but that didn't seem exactly appropriate either. I'll tell you this much if you care to know—***SPOILER ALERT***

Before the real girl-on-girl stuff, the main character, Erica, enjoys a very heterosexual masturbation scene (hence, the "hunk" list two-thirds of the way through). So if you are more interested in the Sapphic-like parts of the story, you may wish to skip around that. If you yourself are bisexual, Dear Reader, you'll probably be okay with reading all of it. Thanx.

***

October 3rd, 8:30 a.m.

It was the blustery autumn of 1988 in midwestern America. George H.W. Bush was beating the metaphorical pants off Michael Dukakis in the presidential race, preceded by Ronald Reagan at the spry, youthful age of 77. Compact discs had won the music medium war against vinyl LPs and audio cassettes, and Michael Jackson and Madonna were dominating the pop world. Japan's Nintendo—along with an Italian plumber—held the global youth's video gaming future in the palm of its hand. Computers and word processors were on the rise, but DVDs, Smartphones, iPads and the world-wide web were not yet even glints in the eyes of the technology giants. And the prestigious Denmore Academy proudly boasted its 37th year of scholastic servitude.

For a great wealth of students and folks on the edge of their 20s, college was an incredible time of life—an era in which legions of young adults departed their teens and the comfortable, safe bosoms of their childhood homes. They stood on the brink of the next phase of life, mustering the courage to take the reins and guide their futures on their own. The next frontier.

Denmore's motto was "Students First...And We Mean FIRST." As the students were after all the fuel that drove any academic establishment, an extra effort was made to reach out to this body of youth, appeal to them and ease their entry into its daunting doors. It watched over the future welfare of thousands of kids—and adults—every semester, offering them fantastic scholastic opportunities. Accepted alumni were encouraged to take matters into their own hands, make something of themselves, and hopefully turn their dreams into a reality one day. Denmore educated with inspiration, as well as facts and knowledge.

A typical, outstanding staple of such a prominent university was its local chapters of Greek life. The bonds shared within the organizations of fraternal and sororal solidarity and the durability thereof rivaled those of a familial blood-related siblinghood. Each house strove for greater strength of cohesive unity than the next. Sigma Delta Psi was one such house.

The sorority of Sigma Delta Psi was built on a foundation of these elements from day one. The house had obtained and retained its status and reputation as one of the finest on campus through a strict regimen of hard work, studiousness, strong sociability and current, congruently fast adhesion to the values and principles with which it was founded. The population inside the Sigma Delta Psi house was relatively small in comparison to that of some of its sibling houses, and with good reason. It was made clear to rushes upon arrival that chances of being accepted were already slim, and only a handful of the most competent and promising girls would even be considered for inclusion. Of course, first the sisters needed to test their mettle to determine if they merited this honor. And so they were to administer something of an...initiation.

In the old days several years ago, the sisters of Sigma Delta Psi would branch out to all reaches of campus passing out flyers, carrying word of mouth and encouraging girls to rush who could contribute to their already impressive reputation. Now, they barely even needed to do so much as this anymore. They maintained a steadily potent overall grade point average, did volunteer work and raised money for charitable organizations, balancing their get-togethers with just the right mixture of style, class and semi-formality, with something substantial to offer anyone and everyone. Throughout its existence, from inception to present day—while calling them "royalty" was a bit of a stretch—it seemed this sorority was sitting pretty as the big house on campus.

One of the house's secrets of success was its rigorous program through which pledges were put prior to acceptance. The cut called for hard work, resilience and serious devotion to the sisterhood to be made. Such strength required tough material, and the sisters and house mother, Miss Cortlin, had become pretty adept at sniffing out weakness in an applicant.

The initiation did not go easy on weakness. The sisters could not afford to if they wished to hold on to their reputation. When a girl was officially accepted and welcomed onboard, she was treated regally, just like a real sister with a strong bond should be, and asked merely to reciprocate this respect. But the pledges trying to prove themselves were something of a different story.

Inclusion into the Sigma Delta Psi family guaranteed a bright future—so bright, in fact, one had to wear shades—consisting of a bevy of close friends who would stand by the side of the accepted through thick and thin, multitudes of chances to meet people, network, schmooze and make connections, advance scholastically and take one large step towards the achievement of lifelong hopes and dreams. It was the sort of opportunity most college girls would kill for. And so to even have such a prize up for grabs, pledges certainly needed to thoroughly demonstrate and display their worth.

Erica Hillary Smith was recently enrolled, 19 years old and eager to please. She had royally hated high school, but only because the feeling was mutual first. But now she was excited to make a new start. She was so glad to have graduated and left behind the adolescent immaturity, bullying, teasing and other sophomoric behavior exhibited by her classmates. She had not only left her high school experience behind, but her childhood home of Montgomery, Alabama, as well. She and her family had moved here when she was 14. It was quite an adjustment, but she was up to it.

Though they tried to keep this hush-hush, she'd been accepted to Denmore partially through a nepotistic set of circumstances. Her grades and SATs reflected the marks of a fine student, but what also helped cinch this leg of her education was the presence of her mother, Florence, who worked for the university as an administrator, and had been on the brink of a promotion for some time. Erica had been fortunate enough to make a few friends with varying degrees of loyalty, but most had separated, moved away or begun attending different schools. Along with making a fresh start, she also had to take a step on the first rung of the new communal ladder. She wanted to perform well academically, but she also really wanted a more productive social life. And so in and around her opening classes and orientations, she read the school newspaper and student newsletters for research.

It did not take long for word of Sigma Delta Psi to be brought to her attention. Erica may not have known a lot about sororities, but from what she learned about SDP, it sounded like her ticket to a great college life. If she were to be accepted, of course. Well, she could certainly pledge, if bid to do so, she thought. It couldn't do any harm to simply try.

And how hard could it possibly be?

After making a few well-placed inquiries, she was provided with directions to the Sigma Delta Psi house and a flyer. It requested those interested in rushing please meet in the house lobby Monday mornings for appointments starting at 8:30. No formal invitation necessary. And so on October 3rd, Erica mustered her courage and paid her visit. She was pointed to the sizable lobby and wandered in, silently but cordially greeted by the presence of about a dozen other young, hopeful girls.

Someone asked her to sign in and fill out a stick-on nametag. She obliged and found an empty seat.

"Excuse me kindly, may I please sit here?"

The girl beside the vacant chair—whose tag informed Erica that her name was Tabitha—gave a quick nod, intently going over some papers she had organized in a folder. She seemed somewhat frazzled. Erica wasn't sure if she should have brought some sort of papers herself, but she didn't worry too much. She fluffed out her dress and sat with Tabitha.

After another short while, Tabitha seemed to calm down. She exhaled and closed her folder.

"So," she said, turning to Erica, "Is this, like, your first time rushing a sorority?"

"Yes! Yes, it is...I'm a little nervous, I...guess...although I don't really know why." She shrugged with a chuckle. "Is it yours?"

"I've tried a few. 'S hard to find one that's, like, a good fit for me. Some of 'em don't really challenge me enough, some of 'em are too challenging. But y'know, that's a good thing too, 'cause you learn a lot. Like, one thing you should always totally do is be yourself. If you're, like, bogus and phony, they can smell that a mile away. And they really like it if you're mondo expressive and ask 'em lots of stuff. They're definitely more inclined to like you if you're interested and wanna know about them. Oh, and one thing you never wanna do is, like, go totally cliché. Trust me, the last thing they want is to give off the impression that they're all stupid identical bimbos. Like, you show up looking like a Deb from the '50s talking about nothing but cute dudes and parties and stuff, you might as well just put a sign on your back says, 'Do us all a favor and, like, kick me right the hell outta here.'"

Erica was impressed. "Wow, you dang sure know a lot about this."

"Yeah, well, it's important to me," Tabitha confided. "See, I, like, grew up with four brothers, no sisters, and I always kinda wanted one. Greeks may not be blood sisters, but they make you feel like it. And I've been out with a lot of pretty guys, but haven't had that many girl pals. Sophomore, but first year here. Just transferred. Haven't made any buddies at Denmore yet."

"Well, you, like, have now," smiled Erica, holding out her hand. "Erica Smith, Montgomery, Alabama. Only child."

The smile and handshake were returned. "Tabby Weeks, Boston, Mass. Wicked awesome to meet'cha, E."

"Feelin''s ditto, T."

They chatted a bit longer, until Tabitha's name was called for her meeting. She stood and gave Erica a chuck on the chin.

"Wish me luck, chica!" she grinned. Erica watched as her new friend joined hands with the sisters and they led her into the adjacent room. Not sure what to do to pass the time now, she gave another look around at the other girls. Most of them were also studying documents and materials not unlike that which Tabitha was doing when Erica entered. Another sitting idle a few seats away was also simply looking about. Eventually, their eyes met and they exchanged small smiles and waves.

There was another empty seat beside this girl. Now feeling more confident in her ability to make friends, Erica popped up and introduced herself. "Hi! Erica, from Montgomery. Mind if I join you?"

This lass seemed charmed Erica had approached her first. "Please!" she welcomed. She spoke with a slight Valley twang, to complement Erica's Alabama drawl. "Arlene Fiorello. 21, California, bisexual Scorpio. Half-Italian, half-Polish. How do ya do?"

Arlene was a true and devoted Madonna wannabe. Her hair was bleached platinum blonde with a black velvet ribbon right on top. She was wearing a white lace dress, fingerless gloves and about a hundred thin bracelets on her wrists.

"Very good, thanks, and lovely to meet'cha!" said Erica, sitting. So far, she was really liking how friendly everyone seemed to be. "Gosh, y'know, I wish I'd thought ahead and brought a book or somethin'. I didn't know we'd be waitin' in here this long."

"Oh, for sure! Like, tell me about it!" agreed Arlene, who'd been waiting yet longer than Erica. "Or—y'know what? Y'know what they really oughtta have? They oughtta have, like, a little handheld video game...thing. Like, a little miniature Nintendo."

"Oh, good call!" said Erica. "What do you think they should name it?"

"Well, don't ask me how I came up with this, but for some weird reason, the name 'Game Girl' keeps popping into my head," chuckled Arlene. "Bizarro, right? Or...'Game Boy,' I guess, if you're a dude. Ah, but never mind. It'll probably never catch on."

Arlene was a bit daft, but very sweet. The two of them went on making semi-small talk till Tabitha emerged, now with an additional handful of informational materials the sisters had given her. She located Erica sitting and chit-chatting with Arlene.

"E.!" said Tabitha, in her controlled indoor but excited voice. "It went wicked good! I think I got a real shot to get bid!"

"Wow! Like, awesome job, T.!" congratulated Erica, holding up her palm for a high five.

"Thanks! I gotta, like, get to class now, but maybe I'll see you at one of the parties!" Tabitha waved and scurried off.

Arlene was called in soon after. Erica was again idle and on her own. Everyone left in the room except she was now occupied by their folders of documents and preparations for their initial interviews. She absentmindedly drummed on her thighs for a few moments, looking around, before having a thought of what to do now.

"Um, excuse me," she called, just loud enough. "Excuse me, y'all. Uh, hi. I, um...does anyone have a pen and a piece of paper?"

A blonde girl in a turquoise dress and a flower in her hair unsnapped her binder and removed an empty sheet of looseleaf. "Here you go," she said. "There's a bunch of pens in the cup by the sign-in sheet over there."

"Ah, so there is. Thanks so much!" Erica went for one, sneaking a peek at the sign-in list. Arlene's was a few names above hers. She had a little bit of time to think of things to jot down.

She'd gotten a little more than halfway down one side of the sheet when her name was called.

"Erica Smith?"

"Oh, yes! Here!" she raised her hand, standing a bit too excitedly. She followed the girl who'd called her into the other room. Her greeter rejoined the several sisters behind the large desk in front of which she asked Erica to sit. She gestured to each of the sisters, starting with the closest to her. "My name is Jacqueline Newberry, and this is Carole Preston, Gretchen Peterson, Lena Andersson, Sally Morton and Nancy Davis." Erica smiled and nodded politely at each of them.

"Well, it's very lovely to meet y'all!" Erica proclaimed in a proud, upbeat tone. "I'm Erica Hillary Smith."

"Well, welcome to the Sigma Delta Psi sorority house," said the girl beside Jacqueline, whose nametag reminded her that she was Carole. "Have you filled out an applicant form?"

Oops...crap. Strike one right off the bat. "Oh, gosh, no, I'm so sorry, I didn't. I-I must not have seen 'em," Erica admitted.

"Oh, that's all right," Carole responded automatically, waving it off. "We can just take down the info here." She took a clean form and scribbled Erica's name at the top. "Date of birth, please?"

"Five, sixteen, sixty-nine," said Erica.

"Year?"

"Freshman."

"All right...contact info: home address?"

"707 Yellowjacket Lane, Green Plains."

"'Kay, aaaand...phone number?"

"555-1187."

"Tee-rific. And, do you know your grade point average so far?"

"Hmm...um, I'm not honestly sure. I was just enrolled a couple months ago," Erica said, a bit uncertain of herself. "But, I promise you I am a very diligent student. When I graduated high school I had a 3.62."

"Okay, well, we certainly appreciate your quick initiative and interest in our house," Carole told her. "And that is a fantastic high school performance indeed. Did you take your SATs?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am," she nodded eagerly. "680 math, 624 verbal."

The sisters were visibly impressed. "Excellent," commented Carole. "Are you employed?"

"...Not yet," Erica said. "But I'm a full-time student, majorin' in business and minorin' in social and cultural studies. I'm plannin' to work hard towards as a career as a chief executive officer one day."

The sisters nodded. "Wonderful," commented Carole. "You answered the next couple of questions on the form as well. And, can you tell us a bit about what your parents do for a living?"

"Well, my father is a district attorney," answered Erica, trying to sound modest, "And my mother is...a county administrator."

When she got to what her mother did, Erica opted to leave out that she worked at this very university, not wanting this to influence the sisters one way or the other, but she made sure not to pause for so long they would think she was making it up.

The sisters' facial expressions again indicated approval. "Also excellent," Carole went on. "And are you or do you plan to be involved in any extracurricular activities or supplementary vocational programs in addition to your studies here at Denmore?"

"Well..." Erica thought. "...I was on the swim team in high school, and that was fun, so I think I'd like to do that...and I would definitely like to look into more clubs. I really wanna meet lots of new people. I'm not sure about vocational programs, though."

"Okay, good. Well, I'm sure we at Sigma Delta Psi could help you find something that gels well with you. And should you be bid to pledge, you'll definitely meet lots of young women." She put down the pen. "Well, that's all the questions on the form, and so far, I'm liking what I'm seeing, Erica," Carole smiled. "Is there anything else you feel you could contribute to our sorority?"

"Well, um...I can cook. I love makin' pies and biscuits, so I can keep your tummies happy," said Erica. "Oh, I like to sew too."

"Well, I think those are a couple of skills that may come in handy here," replied Carole. "Do you have any questions for us?"

Erica'd decided to write down queries that came to mind in the lobby beforehand so she could follow Tabitha's advice.

"Yes! Yes, I do," she replied, unfolding the sheet of looseleaf she'd borrowed. "Uh...could you please tell me a bit about the history of Sigma Delta Psi?"

Her new pal Tabby had been right on the money. They greatly appreciated her curiosity and, per Erica's questions for them, took turns gladly elaborating on their history, the tenets on which they stood and prided themselves, what pledging entailed, what they could offer her as far as education, companionship, housing, scholastic and career opportunities and so forth. As they went on Erica grew more and more enthused. She hadn't been paying attention to how long the appointments were before hers while she was in the lobby, but even so, she hoped she wasn't taking up too much of their time.

The truth was, by this point Erica was all but praying for a foot in the door of the SDP house. She tried her absolute best not to let her hopes get too high, or anticipate being heartbroken if they ultimately didn't invite her, but she couldn't help becoming excited about how well things appeared to be going at this early stage. Still, she tried not to seem too eager.

"So, Erica," said the sister called Nancy, folding her hands on the desk, "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

Erica refolded her sheet of looseleaf with a smile. "I reckon that's all the questions I was able to come up with."


Erica Versus The House



"Awesome," added Jacqueline. "So, think Sigma Delta Psi might be something you may be interested in?"

Erica made herself hold off from leaping from her seat and hopping up and down with joy. She kept cool.

"I think I would absolutely be interested," she cooed, boasting a warm grin, "...If the sorority may be interested in me."

Jacqueline opened a drawer on the sisters' side of the desk and removed a packet of documents and information, identical to that with which they'd presented Tabitha. "Fantastic!" she exclaimed. "Here's your recruitment kit: everything you'll need to know about us, and more. We hope you'll come to our parties, and try to meet as many people as you can. Talk to everyone, Erica. Talk as much as you can. We encourage a wealth of socializing and hold it in the highest regard."

"That's right," added Carole. "In fact, you may wish to have some water with you just to keep your voice in shape."

Erica was so stoked she thought she was going to burst. Still, she forced herself to stay under control until she and the sisters had parted ways. "Oh, thank you so much!" she exclaimed, enthusiastically accepting the recruitment packet like it was Christmas morning. "So...what do I do now then?"

"Well, right now, you can do anything you want," said Nancy. "We're just about through with the interview, so you may stick around for a tour of the Sigma Delta Psi house if you like, or you can go to class, or you can go home and relax." She and the other sisters stood. "For now, you just concentrate on putting that studious, diligent mind to work with the kit, and we should probably be in touch with you sometime between now and the end of the week."

Hooray!! Erica cheered inside. She stood herself and shook the sisters' hands one by one. "Wow, thank y'all so much again!"

She departed the sorority lobby, all but literally walking on air.





Erica Versus The House



The girls each turned 90° in their assigned directions, so that each pledge was now facing another pledge. Erica vaguely recognized Tiffany as the fair-haired maiden with the flower in her blonde locks who'd lent her the looseleaf paper in the lobby.

"Now hug each other. And smoosh those boobies together. Good, long and tight."

The girls' eyes widened a bit, almost all of whom were thinking the same thing: That's what you call easy?? But they raised their arms, placed them around each other—Elaine with Madeline, Tiffany with Erica, Tabby with Alexandra—and came in together for an embrace. They slowly, awkwardly and uncomfortably hugged, pressing their nude bodies together.

"Tighter," they heard one sister order.

Trying not to reveal their more or less mutual discomfort in their facial expressions, they extended their arms, stepped into each other and gripped one another a bit harder.

"C'mon, show some love!" Sandra shouted at them. "Remember, these are your sisters!"

Each of the six now thought—none with the inclination to say out loud—"Yeah, but we don't hug our own real sisters naked!"

"Now kiss each other," Babs ordered. "Just on the cheek, for the moment."

This task proved not very much more pleasant, but the girls each performed regardless. They did not want to think about that "...for the moment" part.

When the sisters gave permission to break from the hug, they exhaled in relief, of course unaware what they were to do next.

"Okay, sluts," Helen took over. "Two through five, about face! Bookends, one and six, come and stand up here together."

The poor embarrassed naked girls' hearts sank once more as they realized what naturally was to follow.

"A'right!" Helen's lips curled up into a grin as the other sisters laughed at them. "You know what to do!"

Elaine and Alexandra met between the sisters and their fellow pledges and slowly commenced the identical hugging gesture, as did now Madeline with Tiffany, and Erica with her galpal Tabby. They closed their eyes, most trying to imagine being in the arms of someone they really wished to be, and planted their lips.

Once they'd finished, the sister who hadn't yet addressed the girls stepped forward with a red magic marker in her hand. "All right...you," she said, pointing the capped end at Elaine. Pointing next to the floor, she ordered, "Stand right here."

Elaine did as she was told. This sister, called Denise, threw a nod to Helen, who nodded back, reached to her waist and produced a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, at which Elaine's eyes opened wide.

"What are you going to do with those, sister?" Elaine wished to know.

"Well, let's go right ahead and show you, Curious Georgia." Helen crossed around Elaine, took her hands and proceeded to cuff them together behind her back. Imaginably, Elaine was less than happy with this development.

"But-but-but..." she began to sputter, before she was interrupted.

"Now, now, patience...we'll get to your butt soon enough," Helen taunted the girl, dealing her a mischievous, degrading and disciplinary spank on the ass. The other sister uncapped her marker.

"All righty! I definitely see a problem here..." She drew circles around Elaine's nipples and 'x's in the circles. It understandably felt disorienting and unpleasant to Elaine, who'd never before encountered what she felt were serious issues with any parts of her body, much less her shapely size 34C breasts. But she was beginning to question her own judgment as this intimidating sister marked her skin, the fellow sisters in full agreement, of course.

More pungent red ink was scrawled over her flesh, accompanied by further belittling remarks. "And we've certainly gotta work on this...oh, and this won't do at all...oooh, cellulite city down here...I can see we're gonna have a hell of a time whipping you into shape, pledgie." More circles and 'x'-shaped slashes were made by the marker on her tummy, thighs, pelvis, ass cheeks and lastly her upper arms, behind her back. Elaine's face too reddened in humiliation. Rightly so, she didn't care for this at all.

"Oh, this is pathetic," she heard one of the sisters comment amidst laughter from the others. Her feelings were starting to be seriously hurt here. But at that moment, the handcuffs were taken off her. "All right, whore, back in place," she was ordered.

Elaine's embarrassment was averted as Madeline was summoned before the sisters, had the cuffs slapped on her wrists, and was subjected to this identical abuse. Elaine felt still sorry for the rest of the pledges enduring the treatment, as they did her. Oh well, they supposed, they could look at it as all being in the same boat, being forced through basically the same torment.

Erica and Tabitha tried to comfort one another by exchanging empathetic looks, but the damage had pretty much already been done. After all six of the girls had been branded, marked and made to feel insecure and inferior about their physiques, they were instructed to spread out and perform a series of exercises. One of the sisters turned on the stereo and started playing Debbie Gibson's Out Of The Blue to get their energy pumped up. Already a bit sore from their early morning workouts, the girls weren't exactly keen on more of the similar, but at least they were allowed to stretch this time.

They were not, however, allowed to carry out their training without being closely scrutinized under the sisters' supervision, not to mention being groped, tickled, poked, prodded and verbally reprimanded by them. The girls tried to remain quiet and under control, but a few uneasy squeaks, squeals and "Don't!"s yet escaped.

After what felt like hours—but was really only about forty minutes—of relentless push-ups, sit-ups, squats and leg lifts (during this last portion of which the girls made a point of looking particularly anywhere but at each other) the stereo was snapped off, somewhere in the chorus of "Play The Field." Helen stood in the middle of them.

"All right, you pussies, that's enough," she yelled at them. "At ease."

The six girls practically collapsed on the floor, trying to catch their breath.

"Pitiful!" she admonished. "What a collection of pitiful losers! You worthless little whores are even more of a disappointment than we thought! And you expect to make it into this sorority?! You're not fit to lick the dirt off a Sigma Delta Psi's shoes!"

That's a relief, thought Erica sarcastically, all but drooling on the carpet.

"All right, get up," Babs ordered, sounding as disappointed in them as Helen. "On your feet, freshies."

The girls groaned on the floor and at first could only manage to roll over onto their bellies.

Sandy knew how to get them up. She crouched beside Tiffany, to whom she was nearest, and reached between her legs.

"We said, now."

Tiffany felt a hand fasten a grip on and begin squeezing her vagina. She gasped into a shriek and scrambled to her feet.

"NOW then...anyone else want a nice goose on their pussy??" Sandy threatened.

The rest of the girls rushed to standing position amid moans of both sore muscles and moods. Danielle blew the whistle again.

"I do not see Sigma Delta Psi material before me, slutbags!" she shouted, ambling by every one of them, glaring intensely closely into each of their faces, like a drill sergeant. "Honest to God, if you're having this much trouble now, I have no idea how you think you're gonna get through tomorrow alone, to say nothing of the rest of the week!"

Babs joined her. "I can tell already half of you aren't gonna make it to Wednesday. Bet'cha thought you were pretty tough, huh? Well, have I got news for you: the Sigma Delta Psi sorority house is for women. That's right, women. Not weak little girls."

A couple of the girls glared at the floor, only imagining what trouble they'd be in if they glared directly back at the sisters. For the first time, they tried to measure if potential access into the sorority was worth this armed forces-like cruelty. Especially poor Tiffany. She felt terrible. She held her hands over her molested vagina and sniffled, on the edge of tears she tried to hold back.

Barbara joined her side. "Aww, you gonna cwy, wittle pwedge?" she ridiculed. "We don't like crybabies here. You wanna quit? 'S up to you. There's the door. Don't let it whack your flabby fat ass on the way out."

Tiffany shut her eyes and turned to let herself out. But a wracked sob broke loose from her before she made it outside, to the ruthless delight of the sisters, who cheered at her departure.

"Yay!!" clapped Sandy. "Another down, five to go!"

"And the house wins again!" added Danielle.

"That's right, fresh meat," Babs sneered at them. "So I hope you came to play."

"All right, first day hazing is complete," announced Helen. "Now get to class, losers. And keep those GPAs up! The strongest girl in the world isn't enough alone for Sigma Delta Psi. You better be one sharp cookie too."





Erica Versus The House



Thank you—BOING! said her clit.

Once she got started, this turned out to be far easier than she thought...and a hell of a lot more fun, too. As she went on, she came up with mostly more TV and film actors to tickle her sexual fancy: Ted Danson, Malcolm-Jamal Warner, John Cusack, Eric Stoltz, Michael Schoeffling, Michael J. Fox, Kirk Cameron, Jason Bateman, Rob Lowe, Christian Slater, Kevin Bacon, John Stamos, Andrew McCarthy, James Spader, Robert Downey, Jr., Emilio Estevez, Charlie Sheen...

...LIKE, OH, MY, GOD...

Before she knew it, she was hornier than ever. She heaved for breath, furiously grabbing, rubbing herself, visions swimming through her brain of being scrubbed and bathed by all these gorgeous men. When she was finished being cleaned off, in her fantasy, she imagined one of them—any of them—lifting her from the tub in his burly, pilose, muscular arms, and she felt her body swelling and blazing with hot passion from head to toe.

Oh, more, more, please, my gods, MORE! begged her pussy, intentionally pluralizing the "gods" in question.

Her absence of any sexual activity these last couple of months had thoroughly taken its toll on her mind, and her cunt. Thank goodness she was under water, because her red-hot pussy was on fire. Steam rose off the hot water, and Erica's blazing body, clouding up the mirror and her own eyes. Sweat generated on her brow and quickly began running down her nose and cheeks. She didn't know if she could choose only one celebrity on whom to focus; she was having such a good time with all of them.

This was of course all happening only in her mind. It wasn't as if she were doing anything immorally wrong here. On the contrary—this felt perfectly right, through and through.

Check that; this felt...totally, fuckin'-A, awesome.

Endless visions of the handsome gents danced through her brain as she energetically plunged herself. Her rock-hardened nipples broke the surface of the water, and she pinched and tweaked them with her free hand, finally adding them to the mix and heightening everything multidimensionally. Incomparable passion carried her rational mind away.

Waves rode across the water, splashing Erica in the face and spilling over onto the carpet outside the tub. She couldn't believe she had held off on doing this for so long, but was now glad she'd waited, her deprivation logically building intensity stored up from all her abstinence. By the same token, she was almost disappointed she hadn't waited even longer.

The men worked their magic on her in her ongoing fantasies as her body began uncontrollably, spastically jerking and thrashing. She cringed, clenching down with her pussy on her fingers, squeezing her eyes shut, scrunching her face and biting down on her lip just enough not to break the skin. She furiously massaged her clit, stabbing inside herself with her right hand, trying to reach up and get at her g-spot. She slid further down on her back and lifted her legs from beneath the water.

Now able to reach far enough, she concentrated hard on her crushworthy celeb hunks, held her breath and jilled herself, extending her middle finger just far enough up inside her to rub her g-spot. She quickly nailed the reach and the rhythm, rubbing it repeatedly, and let the explosions begin to hit.

Unstoppable screams forced their way out. Erica flexed all the muscles she could locate and crushed her hands between her thighs. She let every part of her upper body except her face sink under. She could barely even discern if she was coming or not. But something orgasmically big had to have been going on here. Her pussy sparred with her mind for control of which would steer the wild waters of the big 'o.' Finally, any remaining fragments of her mental matter gave way, and her cunt took over.

"OHHHHHHFFFFFFUCK!!" she screeched, leaving the gravitational pull as her spirit rocketed to Heaven. There were no limits how far she could go right now. Electrical currents inside her shot between her clit and her g-spot and zapped unreal surges of sparks and lightning through her, the likes of which she'd easily never come close to feeling before. Her body trembled and her legs shook powerlessly, heels sitting on the ledge of the tub, toenails digging into the cracks between the tiles.

She couldn't begin to determine how much longer the orgasm had to run its course. She simply surrendered to its supremacy and let herself be cradled in the mindblasting passion. It was amazing; she had to take a moment to ponder it. She couldn't believe she could achieve such astounding sensations from simply touching certain spots on her body a certain way.

She needed air, but the seemingly endless orgasm wouldn't allow it. What was more, she didn't even mind so much. If this was the last feeling she got to experience on this Earth, she felt she could die a happy woman. Luckily, the orgasm released her from its dizzying grip and she floated back into her body, gasping for oxygen.

When she caught her breath, her eyes fluttered shut, and some span of uncountable minutes later, she woke up, let herself out of the tub and drained the water. As she dried off, returned to her bed and collapsed in, she found herself unable to remember or care about the worries awaiting her on the other side of sleepy-time. Whatever torture the sorority sisters had in store for her and her friends next wouldn't unease or faze her in the least at this moment. For right now, everything was perfect.

She fell asleep in her pool of honey-like afterglow.





Erica Versus The House



"Sisters, yes," nodded Erica. "I'll guard it with my life."

"'Atta girl," said Sandy. "Here we go!"

What Erica didn't know was, they'd lined the path down which they'd be leading her with large-seal bubble wrap, under which was sprinkled a semi-dense layer of aluminum screw tacks. They were clearly not done abusing her for their own amusement.

"All right, step lively, pledge-breath," grinned Babs. "Miss Cortlin is waiting."

Erica began to shimmy inside, shuffling her cuffed feet back and forth, scooting forward at the rate she could, hearing giggling already. She didn't know why her hands and feet were restrained, but she figured there had to be some sort of twisted reason.

She was right.

Her toes waggled over the bubble wrap. "What's that?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," said Sandy. "Just keep moving."

She made it a few inches down okay. Then her total weight began to pressure the bubbles too much.

POP!

Erica jumped. "OUCH!!" she cried. Her feet crushed the bubbles and stepped on the tacks. The sisters laughed and cheered.

"OH my GOD, what in hell i—"

Sandy spanked her ass. "HEY—language!" she chastised. "Bad girl!"

Suddenly, she realized why Babs and Sandy had warned her about this. She held onto the cake extra tight.

The remainder of the march down the line was predictable.

POP! "OW!" POW! "OOCH!" SNAP! "AAAH!" CRACK! "OUCH!" POP! "OW!"

Her feet felt shredded, but she somehow made it the whole way down.

"Say hello to Miss Cortlin, Smith," a voice commanded.

Erica's heart slammed to the forefront of her chest. She curtsied to the best of her ability and quickly put her words in order. "It is an honor, a privilege and a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cortlin, and to present you with this lovely cake. Happy Birthday."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Smith," she heard an older female voice say. "You may place the cake on the far end table, please."

She looked back and forth in the direction of Barb and Sandy. She seemed to remember them telling her something about meeting Miss Cortlin and then being given the "final test"...was this it? Putting a cake on a table?

"Uh, where...?"

She was turned 90° to the left, in the correct direction. "Straight ahead, Smith. Just go forward."

They were no longer guiding her. Unaware of what other hazardous traps may lay in her footpath along the way, Erica went on shimmying her feet along the floor extra cautiously and carefully. She felt nothing but carpet.

Danielle, who sat in a chair she walked by on this second leg of her right angle, smiled at the sisters and put her finger to her lips. The hat and cane they'd given the pledges to dance for them the other day were beside her chair. She quietly took up the cane, held it by its long end, waited for Erica to cross until she got just past her, slipped the cane out in front of her...linked its hook around Erica's right ankle...waited for the half-second just before she noticed...

...And yanked. Hard. Enough.

Just as schemed, Erica did not notice the cane go around her ankle, but she did certainly notice her feet jerked out from under her from behind. She lost her center of balance and reflexively began to bobble the cake.

"WhoOAHHH!" she yelled, upended. She tried to stop moving and maintain her footing, but she had already been thrown off her equilibrium. She tumbled in what felt like slow-motion to the floor, just as when Barb had tripped her up Monday morning.

More whoops and cheers ensued. Erica heard several voices overlapping at once.

"Whoopsie!" called one.

"Down we go-o-o!" laughed another.

"TIM-ber!" shouted another.

Finally, from right behind her came the most recognizable voice, with her most recognizable haunting verbal refrain.

"And the house, wins, again!"

Erica did her best to just cushion her blow. Luckily, her arms underneath her broke her breasts' fall, protecting their fragility.

Unluckily, she went down...nose first.

And the cake box lid...was open.

Splat! Erica was met on the floor with a faceful of chocolate marble cake, courtesy of gravity and centrifugal force. She raised her head and spit a few stray crumbs of chocolate marble from her mouth.

What in hell...what happened?! She didn't know how she lost her balance and crashed to the floor like this when she'd been so careful. But based on the sisters' reaction, she quickly detected that one of them had deliberately, diabolically tripped her.

Again.

And now she had ruined the cake.

The vitally...important...cake.

Oh, no! Oh, God! Oh, fuck me! Oh, you bitches!!

Erica's first instinct was to get back up and apologize profusely to Miss Cortlin for letting this happen to her precious cake.

But...all of a sudden...she didn't have the energy anymore. Or the drive. Or the determination.

The devastating reality at last sank in, that...no matter what...

...They're just not gonna ever let me win, are they??...

They were never planning to allow her to complete her pledging and join. This was their viciously cruel scheme all along! It didn't matter what she did, how hard she tried; ultimately, it wouldn't do any good. Suddenly, she totally understood why her friends called it quits. They weren't weaker than she; they were smarter! They'd figured all this out first! Why didn't she listen??

She didn't have the inclination to so much as care anymore. She shoved the cake out of the way, now with a face-shaped dent in it, dropped her head back down to the floor between her lifeless arms, admitted wordless defeat, and sobbed like an infant.

She needed not listen to be able to tell that the sisters were continuing to mock, scorn and deride her—eventually, when she saw the sun go up enough consecutive days, she trusted it as the status quo. She only cried louder to try and drown them out. She didn't care what they said or did anymore. She didn't care if they refused to give her back her personal belongings. She didn't care about anything in relation to these evil women anymore. She just wanted to be let out. She just wanted to go home.

But she'd not be permitted to go anywhere just yet. She heard at least one person approach her body, and roll her over onto her back, then felt herself being dragged backwards along the floor. Most of her face below the blindfold was covered—particularly the nose—in chocolate marble cake. She did nothing to protest.

What are y'all gonna do now, beat me up? Fine. Whatever. I don't give a flying fuck anymore.

They were not going to beat her up. She didn't know how this could get any worse, but she was about to find out.

"Aw, she's crying," someone remarked.

"Poor baby," another cooed in feigned sympathy.

"Hmm, I think I know how to cheer her up," someone else said.

"Oh?"

She was not even trying to discern whose voice was whose anymore.

"OH, yeah. I've got a way to put a smile on that face!"

Erica didn't want to think about what that could have meant, let alone know. But she was going to. Unbeknownst to her attention, Sandra was waving an electric toothbrush to show them. What was more, she had spares for all of them.

"OOOOOhhhh!" giggled Babs in excitement. "I want one! I want one!"

"Me too!" said Danielle.

"And you'd better have one for me!" beamed Helen.

Erica abruptly had a pounding headache. The next thing she knew, a minute later, someone sat down on her hands above her head. Someone else perched on her legs, immobilizing her feet. The remaining girls plopped down at either side of her.

"Ready, bright eyes?" Sandy leered down at her in a voice dripping with ominous malice.

No, she wasn't, and didn't have the energy to ask ready for what either, but it didn't matter anyway. They turned on the electric toothbrushes and went right to town on her. Simultaneously, she heard Barbara's voice mocking her again...

"Welcome to the big girls' house, Dixie."

Erica's gears were automatically thrown into reverse against her will. Electric vibrations buzzed against her skin all over: her underarms, her belly, her thighs, the soles of her delicate feet. Her inconsolable sobbing was disrupted and put on indefinite hiatus as screamingly intense laughter exploded out of her. It took only seconds for frantic babbling begging to follow.

"AAAAHAAHAAAAAAHAAAPLEEEEEHEEEEEASESTOOOOPIHAAAAHAAAHAAATETHIIIIHIIIIIHIISSSS!!"

It was true; she hadn't been lying to the sisters Monday morning, declaring just how much she despised having her feet—or any spot on her body, really—tickled. Her feet were just slightly more sensitive than the rest.

"MAAAHAAAAAAMIIIHIIISSSCOOOHOORTLINPLEEEEEHEEEASEHEEEHEEEHELPMEEEEE!!"

The sisters guffawed. "She's not helping you, silly girl!" cackled Babs.

"On the contrary; she likes this!" commented Sandy.

Danielle chimed in. "Yup, another Civil War, and looks like you lost again, Suthun frahd chickadee!"

But it made no difference which spot was technically the most ticklish; they were all being assaulted. The brushes jumped about her—armpits to boobs, tummy to ribs, thighs to pussy lips, soles to toes—as she felt fingers and nails join in. When her genitalia were added to the offended regions, Erica's laughter morphed to pure shrieking. Her neurological system could not determine whether she was being forced to laugh or shout. All she could do was whip her face from side to side, projecting bits of chocolate marble cake all over. Earlier in the afternoon, when the sisters had sent her out to the bakery half-naked, when she came back she was so frigid she was almost blue. Her lips had turned purple. Now under her cake facial, she was red as a beet.

Denise picked up Barbara's camera and readied another roll of film in it. The next thing Erica heard thoroughly drove her humiliation home. It was a series of flashes going off.

"That's it, smile for us!" she heard one sadistic voice sing.

"Oh, what a scrapbook we've gonna have for you!" came another.

"Won't your Mommy just be SO proud of you, young lady!" exclaimed another, buzzing the girl's cunt. When they found how wild she went having her pussy jolted, they naturally took merciless advantage of it, opening her labia and really terrorizing her. The laughter swirled around her and tortured her mind. She was going crazy. Actually, in point of fact she had passed crazy long ago. Her present level of delirium had yet to be defined in words. But in the midst of this insanity, someone chimed in.

"Excuse me, ladies."

Erica felt the vibrating bristles and furiously digging fingers relent on her. Miss Cortlin was speaking.

"I have a proposition to offer Miss Smith."

The sisters looked to one another in silence as they awaited this development.

Miss Cheri Cortlin smiled, crossing her legs. "If our young Miss Smith...can be brought to orgasm, via any feasible method..."

Erica just barely managed to raise her head, throwing an incredulous expression in Miss Cortlin's direction.

"...For my entertainment...I will allow her into the sorority."

"Oooooh..." some of the sisters' voices overlapped. "IN-teresting!..."

"WHAT?!!" Erica screeched.

"This is my offer, Miss Smith," she heard Miss Cortlin reply. "You may take it or leave it."

Erica couldn't find words. "Bu—y—d—tha—...you're ins—...that's insane!"

"Is it, Miss Smith?"

"Y—...yes! Miss-Miss Cortlin, what do y—...you think I'm a lesbian?? I'm straight! I can't orgasm with girls!"

"Perhaps not directly," said Cheri, "But supposing you were to...pleasure yourself for us?"

Erica just about threw up in her mouth. Being starved for sexual action and deciding to jill off of her own volition was one thing, but being blackmailed into doing it by a bunch of girls and their vindictive house mother made her literally ill.

"That's disgustin'!" she screamed. "You're freakin' sick! Y'ALL're sick! I'm not doin' that!!"

"Aw, that's really rather a shame, Miss Smith," Miss Cortlin said calmly. "I was quite looking forward to such a performance. Well, I suppose we'll just have to, uh...convince you to do this for us then. Ladies?...Care to continue the honors?"

The sisters laughed wickedly at her. A couple of them cheered. Suddenly, 19-year-old Erica Smith saw her doom sealed.

"OHGODNOOOOOOOOO! PLEEEEEEEEASE!!"

Erica erupted as they again lowered the toothbrushes to her trembling body.

But this time, something intervened. A knock came on the door, just loud enough to be heard over Erica's outbursts. Hearing it, the sisters instinctively jumped in front of Erica's supine body, sitting around her to block view from their visitors.

"Yes?" called Miss Cortlin.

It was the dean of students, Mr. Eeples. He pushed the door open just enough to address them.

"Good afternoon, girls, Miss Cortlin. As you may or may not be aware, the intercom system is malfunctioning, so we're going door to door to update you on a major shift in our chain of command. As I have recently announced, as of today, I have retired."

"Oh yes, we are well aware, Mr. Eeples," said Miss Cortlin. "And thank you so much for everything you've done for us over the years. We'll miss you dearly."

"As shall I you," he replied. "And in my stead then, ladies, I'd like to introduce you to your new dean of students, effective immediately: Mrs. Florence Smith."

Florence waved at them, by Mr. Eeples' side. "Howdy, y'all!" she called.

"Mama??"

The sisters heard the scared, teary voice. Their eyes shot open. They whipped their stunned gazes behind them.

"'Mama'?" they uttered in unison.

Florence poked her head into the room. "E—...Erica?...Did-did I hear my daughter's voice?"

The sisters were abruptly very uneasy.

"New dean of students"..."Mama"?

They suddenly felt an icy chill of doom descending slowly upon them. Too shocked to say anything, their eyes filled with horror to hear Erica yell out—

"MAMA!! Mama, help me! Help! They're torturin' me!"

Florence and Mr. Eeples, unaware anything was going on, rushed in. "What's going on here?" Mr. Eeples demanded to know.

"Where's my daughter?!" overlapped Florence.

The terrified sisters backed up over Erica's body, trying to conceal her, though they knew the jig was up. Her mother and Mr. Eeples hurried around them to find her cuffed up and naked on the floor.

Florence gasped. "Erica!" she exclaimed. "My God! Baby, what in hell happened?!"

"Mama, I told you, they're torturin' me!!"

No one else had the guts to say a thing. But now that they couldn't hide her anymore, the sisters jumped up and all but hid behind their now equally anxious house mother.

A less surprised Mr. Eeples looked down at the girl, hands on hips, shaking his head. "Miss Cortlin...girls..."

It seemed an eternity before he spoke again. The girls could only imagine what trouble they were in.

"...To say that I am disappointed in you right now...is an understatement. I warned you about these extreme hazing rituals."

The sisters looked guiltily at the floor, breathing heavily.

"M-M-Mr. Eeples, Mrs. Smith, I can explain!" insisted Cheri Cortlin.

"Oh, can you?" challenged Mr. Eeples, as he and Florence crossed their arms. "Okay; go right ahead."

"Yes, indeed, go ahead!" urged Florence. "I can't wait to hear this."

Their angry, disappointed stares were too intimidating for Miss Cortlin to think of anything to say. She only stammered. Nothing came forth in the way of a coherent explanation.

Eventually, Mr. Eeples sighed. "That's what I thought," he mumbled. "Well, Mrs. Smith, shall I leave this one in your court?"

"Oh, I think I can take it from here," Florence snarled, not taking her glaring eyes off the sisters. "Thank you, Mr. Eeples."

"Very well," he agreed. "Miss Cortlin? My office, please. Right now, if you would."

The terrified sisters watched as their house mother rose to follow the almost-former dean to the door. They could only return their eyes to the carpet as their new dean stood over them, tapping her foot on the floor.

"I'd release her right about now if I were you," came the authoritatively ominous voice.

Sandra, Barbara and Danielle snuck back over to Erica's still body on the floor, and took her hands and feet out of the cuffs.

"Why's there cake all over her face??"

The only one who responded to this question was Denise.

"...It's a long story, Mrs. Smith."

"Yes, well, it's gon' to be a long night for the five of y'all if you don't start talkin'."

Gradually, the sisters laid out what had been going on for Mrs. Smith, as did Miss Cortlin for Mr. Eeples. Subsequently, Erica told her mother about all the horrible things the sisters did to her and her friends, and made them do as well.

"W-we were just having some harmless fun," Sandra pitifully squeaked.

Florence glared at them, penetrating their souls with fear.

"I don't know how you define 'harmless,'" she spoke, quietly, intensely, with a dark foreshadowing of what soon was to follow. "But y'see, in my mind, things like hot coals, screw tacks, virtual nudity in thirty-degree weather and all-around bullyin' and humiliation in general are far from harmless. Now, how exactly do you feel this situation should be rectified?"

The sisters looked to one another in silence.

Mrs. Smith turned to her daughter. "Erica, have you any suggestions?"

Erica rubbed her hands together, enjoying this already.

"Well, I think first of all, apologies are in order..." she stated, in a tone that made it clear she wasn't finished.

"That's a terrific idea indeed," agreed her Mom. She turned back to the girls, who remained silent for several moments.

"We're waitin'."

"...S-sorry...we're sorry..." the sisters mumbled, awkwardly bumbling over each other's voices.

"Mm, a little half-hearted, but we'll let it go," Florence evaluated. "Anything else?"

Erica pretended to think about it. "Hmm, let's see..." she pondered, tapping her chin. "Oh yes, I would like them to invite back my friends and apologize to them too. Tabby, Arlene, Elaine, Tiff, all of 'em. I'd like us all to be allowed into the sorority."

"Fiorello?? The airhead??" questioned Danielle, before Babs elbowed her in the side.

Florence nodded once more. "Well, that sounds fair to me. Don't you agree, girls?"

The sisters didn't say anything more just now, but Erica did.

"Oh! Yes! I know! I think these skanks need to learn a lesson from this, and know exactly how what they put me through felt."

"Theeeere it is!" Florence smirked, hitting upon the same thought. "How 'bout it, gals? I think our student body would find the entertainment of such a show about hazin' rituals in reverse quite amusin'! Don't y'all??"

"Oh, I do!" said Erica gleefully. "Payback's a bitch, is she not?"

Her mother turned sternly to her. "Erica..."

"Sorry, Mama. Correction: payback's a real bitch."

Florence turned back to the sisters with a righteous, karmic leer of justice. "That's better."

Erica giggled impishly. "Looks like the house lost this time, ladies!"