Page 17 of Frat Row
Initiation
After doing a few bullshit hazing things to become a brother, the day I’ve been waiting for has arrived.
I walk to the school library, which is open on weekends, but it’s a ghost town with some overachievers like me there.
I have my books in my hand, a backpack slung over my shoulder, and I’m leisurely walking, not wanting to start on my math homework.
For some unknown reason, call it instinct, I happen to glance behind me, and a black SUV swerves wildly in front of me on a sidewalk, nearly hitting me. Several things cross my mind. First, this is illegal, and second, what the fuck?
A chill runs down my spine; fearing for my life, my feet kick into gear as I make a run for it. I drop all my things and sprint toward the library, expecting someone to at least see me and help.
Three men emerge from the car in full black attire, complete with gloves, masks, and even shoes. My calves are burning as I pick up speed, not comprehending what is happening.
Latching onto the door, I open it, about to yell for help, when one of them tackles me. Pain fires through me as I grunt out, landing hard, and he quickly places his hand over my mouth.
Methodically, the other two zip-tie my legs and hands together, securing them where they are cutting into my skin.
Hauling me to my feet, one of them shoves some type of material into my mouth to keep me quiet.
Fighting them, I shout, but only muffled sounds come out.
They easily overpower me, but somehow, I manage to elbow one of them in the face, and his hands come off of me, reaching for it.
“You fucker,” he growls.
With a terrifying gaze, they drag me back to their car. One of them holds the duct tape up and undoes it in front of my face, ensuring I see it.
Turning from side to side with a terrified gaze plastered on my face, one of them slinks behind me and violently covers my head with a canvas bag, fastening it with a tie on the bottom.
I lose my vision and my voice, leaving me with only my sense of smell and hearing. Dread and frustration form inside me.
Hovering over me, I hear them burst into a fit of laughter. Sweat beads on my forehead, profusely falling into my eyes.
Only a moment passes before two of them grip me hard and toss me into the back of the trunk. I hit my head harshly, grunting in agony.
Panicking, I try to calmly take deep breaths, stubbornly not wanting to pass out. Gasoline overwhelms my nose as my body rolls back and forth, colliding with the top when we go over a bump.
I try to time the drive to decipher how far away these guys are taking me from campus. If I get the chance to escape, I need to know the distance.
After driving for a while, the car starts to slow down, and if my calculations are correct, we are about twenty-eight to thirty minutes from campus.
Unexpectedly, the car suddenly comes to a complete stop, and I’m thrown forward in the trunk.
Shouting as loud as I can, two of the guys haul me out of the trunk, placing their hands underneath my armpits, dragging me helplessly again to an unknown destination.
Hearing my shoes scrape across dirt and gravel indicates that we are in the middle of nowhere.
Suddenly, the ground shifts a bit higher, and I’m struck by cool air coming from an air conditioner.
I’m inside. I instantly detect a type of incense that overpowers my nose.
They carry me down an extensive number of stairs, and I count them as we go.
The air temperature changes, and it becomes colder.
I cringe at the thought that it’s, without a doubt, a basement. After reaching the bottom, the canvas bag is torn off my head. My eyes take a while to adjust to my surroundings and what I see before me.
Hundreds of candles are scattered around a dungeon.
Water is leaking in certain places, so we must be significantly below ground.
People surround the area, wearing black robes attached to black hoods with skull masks.
I can only assume they are men. Each of them has a familiar emblem on the right side of their chest. It’s of my fraternity, Alpha Chi.
Realization shakes me to my core—this is initiation.
Standing, waiting in silence, there have to be over a hundred men before me with their heads bowed.
Finally, I made it here after years of my dad talking excessively about the brotherhood.
He never mentioned this part; unless you are an initiated brother, you are forbidden from talking about it with others.
Briskly observing that there are fifteen other initiates near me, I notice that I am the last one to arrive.
Instantaneously, the room of hooded figures separates into two groups, and they back up against either wall, shoulder to shoulder.
At the very end of this manmade passageway is a woman lying naked on a king-size bed and blindfolded with both of her hands chained up far apart from each other, her legs spread and displaying her cunt.
Taken aback by the sight before me, knots form in my stomach, and I try to hold back the vomit. What in the actual fuck?
Hooded figures step behind us, subtly cutting our zip-ties. I glance at the other initiates' faces, all of them looking appalled.
“You will remove all of your clothing this instant,” a deep voice commands, and I can only assume the voice belongs to Archer.
Hesitating for a moment, I hear rustling around me as the other initiates remove their clothing. Startled, I finish taking off my clothes, and another hooded figure sweeps in and collects all of it, including our shoes.
“Next, you will form a line in alphabetical order by last name.” Archer condescendingly gestures to where the line should start.
The brothers hold their hands over their mouths, trying to hide their snickering over what is about to happen.
“After the line is flawlessly straight, you will begin the elephant walk,” Archer continues with a deranged look on his face, being the only one we can currently see.
The snickers grow louder. Forming the line, which, in my opinion, could not be straighter, it leads in the direction of the naked lady lying on the bed.
“This woman knows the ritual in its entirety and has volunteered to be our plaything and human sacrifice. She is not being forced or held against her will; she knows this must be done,” Archer continues confidently.
This has to be some demented ass joke. There is no way someone would willingly volunteer for this. I call bullshit.
“Each of you will be required to fuck one of her holes—mouth, cunt, or ass—whatever is your preference.” He shrugs. “Her pleasure needs to be avoided, but you need to find your release, and when you do, you may come wherever you wish.”
“That is where the elephant walk comes in. While waiting your turn, you will obediently clasp the dick behind you and jerk him off, preparing him to fuck her.” With his hand gripped into a fist, he brings it to his mouth and chuckles.
What? Horror and shock engulf us as we turn our heads, staring at one another.
Never in my life have I put my hands on another cock, let alone jacked one off.
Now, it’s a requisite for being initiated as a brother.
How am I ever supposed to look at them after this without embarrassment flooding through me?
Is this some sort of sick and twisted bonding technique? No wonder this is never talked about.
Unfortunately, I end up located in the middle, jealous of the fucker who is first because he won’t have to participate in this line for long.
Do they really expect us to do this? Hopefully, Archer will jump in and say it’s just a joke.
I close my eyes and wish for it. The answer to my question is fulfilled after a few seconds of anticipation.
“Start jerking each other off. NOW!” Archer yells.
Jumping to attention, most of the pledges start moving their hands up and down on dicks behind them.
My stomach feels like it’s going to drop out of my body.
I’m so disgusted. I take a deep breath, reaching behind me.
I avoid eye contact with all the guys. Forcefully moving our hands up and down, no one dares to moan or make any noises that signal pleasure.
That would make this awkward as fuck. Instantaneously, I feel the pre-cum from the guy behind me getting all over my fingers and hands, so I start to use it as lube.
After getting it a little lubed up, I slow down, not wanting him to squirt his load before we get up to the lady.
Reverberating around the room is a palpable sense of discomfort; you can just feel it. I am certain the men in the hooded cloaks have to watch all of this. Picking up our pace, wanting to get this over with, pledge after pledge fucks her in different holes as fast as possible, their eyes vacant.
One guy steps up and straddles her head with his knees on either side and grips fistfuls of her hair.
He fucks her mindlessly with his cock, shoving in and out of her throat so deeply that she is a jumbled mess but takes it like an expert.
Drool begins leaking out of the sides of her mouth, and she’s gagging loudly.
After what feels like an eternity, he yanks himself out of her mouth and comes all over her face, scooping it up with two fingers and pushing past her lips until she’s sputtering and squirming while he laughs maliciously.
Delicately slapping her on the face, he leaps off the bed.
The next initiate steps up and rolls her on her stomach; there seems to be a little slack in the ropes, and he gropes her at her hips and hauls her to his waist. Spitting on his hand and rubbing it on his swollen cock without warning, he plunges into her tight ring of muscle.
She whimpers in pain, but as the obedient fuckdoll she is, she doesn’t resist.