II
Ben wasn't gone long, but even in that short time Sam had turned from a friendly college senior into a slightly threatening presence, eyeing me up like a dog eyes a succulent steak. It made me a bit uncomfortable, but I tried to shake it off. I told myself I had just agreed to be a sex slave for a year and if I didn't like being looked at by Sam then I wasn't going to last very long at all. I thought I knew what I was letting myself in for, but I was dead wrong.
Trying to lean into the situation, and put on a bit of bravado, I asked Sam whether I should strip now. He looked at me cooly, `no Fag. You wait until you're told to strip by Zach'. Both the coolness, where only recently there had been warmth, and the use of the word fag surprised me back into quiet. He'd told me he was going to enjoy using and abusing me, but still, the change had happened so quickly that I wasn't ready.
Ben and Zach came back in. Glad to hear you've accepted Fag,' Zach said, clapping me a little hard on the back, what's your Safe Word? Then we can get the ritual started and you can take your place in the hierarchy'.
I'd thought about my Safe Word and told Zach that it would be howitzer. I didn't think I'd ever say it accidentally. Zach nodded, wrote it down on a piece of paper and turned to Sam and Ben: `Gather all the brothers in the Chapter Room. Tell them to be there in 10 minutes, and I'll present Fag'.
Sam and Ben left the room to gather the brothers. Zac told me to stand up, which I did quickly. He then started pacing around me in a circle. `There are 37 brothers living in the house this year, Fag. There are 79 active brothers currently studying here but living elsewhere on campus. You will serve each of these brothers without question in whatever way they require. No exceptions. No hesitations. No excuses. Most brothers will punish you for any of them. Unless you use Howitzer, of course, though I'd advise against it. As well as the active brothers, we also have an extensive network of alumni -- that's the reason you're doing this after all -- who also have the right to use you. This isn't super common and your first loyalty is to active members. We have a strict hierarchy in this frat. You are at the bottom of it and you will obey brothers in order of that hierarchy. Meaning, that if a brother orders you to attend him at 21:00, but I then order you to the same, you obey me. You may inform me of the conflict and I might tell the brother they've lost out, if I have time, or remember. Even if I do tell them, they might still punish you for it. That's life. You'll meet the vice president and the officers in a moment -- remember they stand just below me in the hierarchy. Don't fuck that up. We'll be rushing soon and accepting other pledges -- pledges are not brothers and do not have the right to use you. If a brother orders you to serve a pledge then you do because that brother has ordered it. Don't fuck that up either'.
As he was pacing and talking, I had started to sweat a bit. 37 brothers in house! 79 across campus! Alumni! The numbers were intimidating. He stopped directly in front of me. `It's time. Put your hands behind your back'.
I did as I was told and felt him tying my wrists together very tightly. He also wrapped a blindfold around my eyes so that I couldn't see anything. Lastly he attached what felt like a noose around my neck and started to lead me forward with a hard jerk. I stumbled after him in total darkness, my heart thumping manically in my chest. I heard doors open and knew we'd entered a large room full of people. I could hear breathing and the shuffling of feet, the odd cough or whispered comment. As the doors opened a large voice shouted `the president comes! He brings with him this year's Fag!'
A roar of voices took up the chant of Fag! Fag! Fag! Fag! Fag! Fag!'. We walked down what I was pretty sure was an aisle between two groups of people, still all shouting Fag. I was sweating even more and I was struggling to control my breathing. What felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, later we climbed a few stairs onto a platform. Rough hands grabbed me turned me to face the screaming wall of Fag!'
A hush descended and I heard Zach's voice. Brothers! This year's Fag has been chosen and he has agreed. Fag will serve you all for the year. You know the rules, all two of them'. Laughter from the audience. No permanent marks. Nothing that requires medical treatment. Fag's Safe Word is Howitzer. We all pray, for his sake, that he never uses it'. This was answered by a cry of never!'. But if he does, then you must stop what you are doing and escort him from the house, forever. As is traditional, we will club together to pay his 4-year's tuition in recognition of his service'. I later learned that very little of the tuition for my service came from the active brothers, but that it was actually funded by an endowment trust set up and maintained by alumni for precisely this purpose. `To mark his transition from man to Fag, human to object, free man to sex slave, I will now ceremoniously present him to you and you may all sign your mark upon his body!'
I felt cold metal slide up the front of my t-shirt, and the snip of scissors. I felt the same happening to my trousers. Two people lifted my roughly and removed my shoes and socks. Soon I was standing in just my underwear, hands tied behind my back, and eyes covered. I felt Zach's hands on me, felt his lips on my neck. Then I felt what must have been a sharpie on my chest, writing something I couldn't make out. Then both my underwear and blindfold were ripped off. I saw what I had expected to see: a large room filled with young men. We were on a raised platform with 7 of those young men. Behind us, I could see my clothes burning in a fireplace.
Hands still tied behind my back, Zach pushed me to the ground, onto my back. He fell upon me like a lion on a gazelle, one hand wrapping around my throat, the other undoing the flies of his jeans. I felt paralyzed -- the ceremony may have just been an elaborate frat nonsense, but I felt as though I had just become a sex slave in every meaningful way. It may not have had any significance in law, but in my mind I was now property.
Zach releaed my throat to better position himself and I glanced down at my chest. The sharpie had written, in stark black letters, FAG PLEDGE 2023/24. Zach slapped my face, `lift your ass, Fag. Need to get my dick in that tight hole. He slapped me again, harder, before I could respond. After the second slap I did wiggle my ass and try to elevate it to what I hoped would be a better angle for his cock. I could see it now, huge and slick with his own spit, it was pointed directly at my hole. My virgin hole. I had never known how I'd lose my virginity, but I never imagined it would be on the floor of a frat house as I was made a slave and watched by the best part of a hundred guys.
Zach plunged his dick in. I screamed. He laughed and slapped me. My tight hole resisted his thrusts. I tried to relax but it was almost impossible. He slapped me again and shouted `RELAX YOUR HOLE, FAG!'. I spit onto his cock as it exited my hole and then shoved in again. Each thrust was getting easier, but only relatively. My ass still felt like it was on fire, and my arms, still tied and now trapped under me, were starting to hurt.
After the first minute of violent fucking, Zach slowed down to a much gentler rhythm. He leaned down, stroked a lock of my hair from out of my face, kissed my cheek, and said time to meet the brothers'. I looked around and noticed that all the brothers I could see now had their cocks out and were slowly stroking them. Some were fully naked; others had just popped them out of their shorts or jeans. The 6 other guys on stage with me and Zach were stroking most vigorously, and then one came forward. He was tall, broad, and muscled with cropped brown hair and green eyes. Carter Howard,' Zach said, `My VP and right-hand man'. Carter knelt down beside my face, still stroking, let out a pleasurable grunt and blew his load all over my face. Taken by surprise, a good lot ended up in my mouth, and some in my left eye, but there was enough left for me feel it running down my cheek. Carter then took up the sharpie and signed his name just below FAG PLEDGE 2023/24. He stood up, grinning, and took his place back in line.
A second guy, more slight and wiry, a runner's body, came up next. His red hair hung in his eyes, and his long, elegant cock was nestled in a flaming bush. `Danny South, treasurer' Zach introduced as Danny knelt beside my mouth and, with a few last strokes, added his cum to Carter's. He also signed his name and left.
That's how I met all the officers: Angus Streak, Secretary -- short, slim, blonde; Thomas Hand, Sergeant and Arms - another muscled-bound jock, jet black hair, 8-inch dick; Henry Sands, Recruitment Officer -- graceful and willowy, fair hair and a nice smile, leant one hand on my chest as he came; Jasper Quill, Housing Officer -- mousy hair atop a boyish, slightly pudgy, face; Dominic Leadbitter, Health and Safety Officer -- curly brown hair that bobbed as he walked, came on my face and seemed to look at me slightly pityingly before he signed his name on my chest.
Once these 7 had busted their nut on my face and signed their name the rest of the brothers started. My arms were now numb under me and Zach's slow, rhythmic fucking had become almost soothing; it was clear to me he meant to keep fucking me until each of the brothers had cum and signed.
There must have been some internal reasoning for the order in which the brothers climbed onto the platform, but I didn't know it. Zach introduced each of them but I soon lost track. I would get to know each of them very well over the coming year, but then they were just a succession of dicks, balls, asses, and cum. Some of them came quickly and signed. Others lingered. Some spat on me; a couple gave me a kick; many promised they'd have their way with me.
It took the best part of 45 minutes for all of the brothers to cum and sign. By the end, my face was almost entirely obscured by cum -- my eyes were sealed shut, my hair was matted, my nostrils were full, and my mouth and throat were lined -- and there was barely an inch of skin which didn't have the signature of one guy or another. I felt degraded, dirty, inhuman, and trapped, which I suppose was the point. One other emotion that was creeping in though, was joy; I had enjoyed my first bukkake, despite it all.
The last person to cum was Zach. He pulled out of my ass, and, with a couple of final strokes, added his cum to what was already there. He then pulled me to my feet and pushed my to the back of the stage. I heard the click of a polaroid camera, felt a sudden rush of panic at the documentation, and the felt my hands being untied. The pain of the blood rushing back in stopped any worry about photos.
`Fag has been through the ritual! His old life is dead! His new one begins today and ends at the end of the summer semester. Until then he shall be known only as Fag; after then, he shall never been called so again and will become one of us in heart, body, and soul. Now, make his life hell! I want him in my room at midnight, but until then, show him who we are!'
Zach shouted this last bit over the roar of the guys. I could see only indistinct shapes through my cum-crusted eyes, and knew I was about to find out what being Fag actually meant.