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Fraternity Property
by Joy Paine (jaypee@kiva.net)
(1992)

***

I can't deny that I enjoyed the experience. Every bit of 
it, the mutual undressing, the initial titillation, 
moving on to the more serious caressing, right on to the 
final sixty-nine yards, as the expression goes. In my 
mind, however, was nothing but revulsion. Double 
revulsion, because Denise was being forced to go through 
this too. To do such intimate things in front of a 
private audience of howling boys and girls,  with whom I 
would be going to classes for the next four years was 
indeed hell. (FF, MF, exh, nc, huml, tor, hypno)

***

Yikes! I thought. Just my luck to meet *him* on my first 
day of school. I just hoped that this wasn't an omen, 
that I wasn't going to be stuck with him for the next 
four years.

No, it couldn't be four years. I found out right away 
that he was a sophomore. Not a freshman like me. But 
then, he had that nerdy look of a guy who was just as 
likely as not to go for an advanced degree. Oh well, I 
thought, I might as well be polite to him. Partly 
because it was my nature, and partly because I might 
need a friend some day. After all, it wasn't as if I was 
selling my soul to him. I could always tell him later to 
buzz off, I thought. Yeah, so I thought.

Turned out that he wanted my help in a psychology 
project he was doing. Nothing complicated, just view a 
program he had written, and give him my comments. "You 
do have a computer, I suppose?" 

Of course, I had a computer. Didn't everybody? But 
again, I gave him a polite answer, told him I was 
running Windows 95. So he gave me a diskette, said he'd 
like to have my first impressions after class tomorrow, 
and said good-bye.

I fired up my computer as soon as I got home, more out 
of curiosity than anything else, and brought up his 
program. It was nothing spectacular. Started out with 
the conventional Smiley face, with a subtitle "The Road 
to Happiness".

The first thing that I noticed was that there was a lot 
of flicker on the screen. Not enough to be annoying, but 
quite noticeable. My new friend might be a good 
psychologist, I thought, but he sure needs a lesson in 
the finer touches of programming. And then I had another 
thought. This was something that Denise should see.

I don't know what guardian angel matched Denise and me 
as roommates, but the match was inspired. We were just 
about the same size (perfect for borrowing clothes), and 
had very similar tastes (again perfect for borrowing). 

Our coloring was different, blonde vs. brunette, and 
neither of us was strikingly beautiful, but we both had 
that well-scrubbed innocent and healthy look (pardon the 
bragging) and full enough figures so that no-one would 
ever mistake us for boys, no matter how we dressed. All 
in all, nothing to kick out of bed on a cold night, as 
my cheeky little brother used to say. When Mom wasn't 
around, that is.

Well, Denise and I sat down together to watch my 
friend's magnum opus.

I don't remember a thing about the text, which was long, 
and full of technical words. But somehow, I couldn't 
tear myself away, nor could Denise. And interestingly, I 
began to feel more and more contented as the time went 
on. Even that pesky flicker stopped annoying me. It 
seemed to have the same effect on Denise, too; she was 
smiling contentedly, and moving closer to me. It seemed 
the most natural thing in the world when she slipped her 
hand into mine, and raised my fingers to her lips. 

I so wanted to kiss her, but I couldn't tear my eyes 
away from the computer screen. So I did the next best 
thing. With my free hand, I cupped her breast, and 
started rubbing her nipple, thrilling to feel it become 
instantly hard. And then she returned the favor, and I 
could feel my juices begin to flow.

To hell with the computer, I thought. And to hell with 
all of my training that had taught me that this sort of 
thing was wicked, forbidden both by the church and by my 
strait-laced parents. This was real! This was what life 
should be like!

As if by common consent (although neither of us spoke a 
word), we helped each other undress, and headed for the 
shower. And that was fun. The hot water was relaxing, 
and you don't really need soap, but it does make things 
nice and slippery, and it also dispels any residual 
inhibitions, by providing an excuse for scrubbing and 
rubbing and shoving and loving and poking and joking 
and... well, you get the idea. And afterward, to bed, to 
a glorious mutual fulfillment.

***

As we lay there in blessed relaxation, I found myself 
suggesting to Denise that we try to get ourselves 
invited to the RD Theatre the next night. (No, I'm not 
English, but that was the title of the show, spelled 
with an R-E on the end.) And then I started wondering 
why I had made such a suggestion. I didn't know what the 
Theatre was all about, or where it was held, or what 
went on. 

I couldn't even remember when I had heard of it. Well, 
apparently Denise had heard of it, too (although it 
turned out that she didn't know any more about it than I 
did), and didn't know where, either. But we both agreed, 
for some unknown reason, that it should be great fun, 
and let's call Sammy (and why Sammy, and how did we know 
him, or his telephone number? But no matter, call him 
anyway) and see if we can get invited.

Well, it turned out that Sammy was my new "friend" who 
had given me the computer program, and he told me how to 
find the RD frat house, and said that both Denise and I 
would be more than welcome to come. He seemed to put a 
little more emphasis on the word "come" than it needed, 
but what the Hell. We were invited, that's all that 
mattered.

We slept together, in the same bed, that night.

***

We didn't even have to discuss what to wear to the 
Theatre. (It was almost eerie, the way we were starting 
to think alike, almost like ESP.) As if by a common 
compulsion, we dressed exactly as we had yesterday 
afternoon (well, not exactly the same; they were clean), 
blouses conservatively cut, skirts slightly above the 
knee, "cutesy" underwear, and socks and sports shoes. 
Somehow, we just *knew* that this was the right attire, 
even though it was for an organized party in the evening 
hours. At the RD fraternity, no less.

Just a word about the RD's. In the days I had been on 
the campus before classes began, doing all the 
registration and other paperwork that were almost enough 
to make me quit college before I even began, I had heard 
lots about the various fraternities. After all, what's 
more important to a young co-ed than what the boys are 
up to? 

Everybody had talked about the RD's in a sort of hushed 
voice. As near as I could gather, the RD boys were all 
from affluent families, except for a few who had talents 
that could be turned in some way to fun. Sammy, 
apparently, was one of the latter. In addition to his 
knowledge of psychology, I learned later, he was a whiz 
at computers and electronic equipment. More of that 
later.

But in addition to their social credentials, the RD's 
had the reputation of being rather "fast", whatever that 
meant in those days. At any rate, a girl who went out 
with them was automatically assumed to be a slut, a 
well-groomed and socially correct slut, of course, but a 
girl who could be had at the drop of a zipper. Not that 
they ever put out for (or even went out with) any boys 
who were not RD's, so it was kind of hard to figure out 
where the reputation came from. I figured it was 
probably just sour grapes on the part of those who were 
not accepted. Not that I planned to become one of their 
"harem" (as the RD girls were called around campus) 
anyway.

Well, we showed up punctually at the appointed hour. We 
still couldn't figure out how we had known when that 
hour was, but we were sure that we were right. 
Absolutely sure, which is another strange thing. Usually 
a vague memory is vague in all details, but not this 
time. Anyway, we walked right into the frat house (after 
all, we had been invited) and down the stairs to the 
rec-room. Soundproofed, we noticed. And it looked as if 
we were the last to arrive, even though we had been very 
careful to arrive exactly at the appointed time. To the 
minute, to the second, according to my watch. 

The room was pretty well filled; both frat members and 
their dates, members of the "harem", I assumed. The 
chairs were arranged in a closely-packed ring around the 
stage, which was fitted out as a bedroom. A bedroom that 
looked exactly like ours. Denise's and mine. Strange, I 
thought, such an uncanny resemblance. But maybe all of 
the dormitory bedrooms looked alike. But why a bedroom 
in a place like this? Was the Theatre going to present a 
bedroom farce, I wondered.

Sammy was standing up on the stage, and he motioned for 
Denise and me to come up and join him and "meet the 
crowd". Several of the audience members had to stand up 
and pull their chairs aside to make a pathway for us, a 
pathway that immediately closed again after we passed 
through. I was a little embarrassed by the notoriety (so 
was Denise, I could tell), but we went along like good 
sports, and stood beside Sammy while he gave a little 
welcoming speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, using both terms loosely", he 
began. The boys guffawed at the expression, but I 
detected a different emotion in the girls. In fact, the 
general mood among the girls seemed to be one of 
resentment, and more than a little of fear. But mixed 
with anticipation, in some cases; in other cases, 
resentment mixed with pity. 

But throughout, a seeming hatred for the boys, who all 
were sitting awfully close to the girls. Some of the 
guys were pawing their "dates"; an attention that seemed 
unwelcome, but strangely, none of the girls resisted, or 
tried to pull away. Not that they could have pulled far 
away, jammed in as they were.

"We have here a couple of candidates for membership in 
our harem," Sammy went on. And I froze at that. Froze, 
in two senses. One, I felt an icy feeling all over, a 
kind of foreboding, no, make that a feeling of dread, of 
terror. And frozen in the other sense, if my life had 
depended on it (and I found out later that it did, in a 
sense), I would not have been able to move from the 
spot. A glance at Denise verified that she was feeling 
the same panic.

"Each of you girls knows what these neophytes are 
feeling right now," Sammy smirked, "and you can guess at 
some of the adventures that lie before them. Each of you 
can recall the various steps that led you into this 
position, where you are essentially amenities of the 
fraternity, just like the chairs and the beds (yes, 
especially the beds), here to be used in any way we 
like, whenever we like, and as long as we like. 

"By any of us, or by all of us, or by anyone to whom we 
offer our hospitality. And you know that tonight is Hell 
night for these young ladies, just as each of you had a 
Hell night, and, as you know, can look forward to 
another Hell night whenever your performance is in any 
way the least bit less then superb. Or whenever the 
fancy takes us."

Now I knew real panic, but my muscles still refused to 
obey my will.

"But before we begin the induction ceremonies," Sammy 
continued, "let me give you a rundown on the way we 
recruited these young morsels. We've been studying the 
subject of subliminal suggestion recently in psych 
class, and I decided to put it to a practical test. You 
know, the sort of thing where the television program 
flashes something like 'eat yummies' at a speed too fast 
for the viewer to detect it consciously. Or maybe 
something like 'vote for Schlock'. All illegal on the 
public airwaves of the USA. But quite feasible, whether 
legal or not, in the privacy of a girl's dormitory."

So I began to understand. Which didn't make me feel a 
damned bit happier about it.

"It was that message that brought these two lovely 
ladies here tonight," Sammy went on, "and now keeps them 
from fainting, or losing their sanity. We don't have to 
worry about their running away, of course, because they 
wouldn't have the chance of an icicle in Hell if they 
tried to break through your ranks. And I've implanted a 
few other commands. 

"The usual, of course, like no serious violence against 
any of the RD's or their property, although a token 
resistance will be permitted when we think it'll be more 
fun. And remember, he members of our harem are also very 
much our property. And no suicide, no escaping, no 
talking out of school. Et cetera. Like I say, the usual 
precautions.

"And a few special provisions that will enhance their 
performance. For instance, we strengthened a latent 
Lesbian tendency, and instilled a hatred of men that 
will make any sexual use by us guys all the more 
repugnant to them, and therefore all the sweeter for us. 
An we implanted a few post-hypnotic commands. For 
instance, watch this...

"OK girls," he turned to us. "We know that it's 
impossible to hypnotize someone into doing something 
against his, or her, instincts. But we know that you 
like to make love to each other, don't we? Although you 
didn't know it, you let me into your room last night 
while you were under the spell of my program, and I was 
able to videotape your whole performance from the time 
you started undressing for the shower. 

"Now, we could run through that tape now for our 
delectation, but I think a live performance would be so 
much more fun. And the lighting will be better, and 
we'll be able, by and large, to do a more professional 
job. The time spent making the videotape was not 
entirely lost, though; it's given me a pretty good idea 
what lighting, and what camera angles, I will need to 
give the best record of tonight's performance. In fact, 
I have such confidence in the preparations I have taken 
that I won't be surprised if your little skit takes a 
Linnea in this year's Porno Academy awards.

"The script is an easy one. You are going to re-enact 
last night's tryst exactly, you'll find that your recall 
will be perfect in every detail. Even to the blissful 
expressions on your faces.

"And," he added, "your perceptions will not be at all 
dulled while you do it. Only your will is inhibited, 
you'll be able to feel at all times exactly the normal 
repugnance at doing such intimate things, and such 
socially unacceptable things, in public. Especially 
since your viewers will include the stalwart young 
American men who are going to be your lovers for the 
next few years. Now if you'll just wait a few moments 
while we get the camcorders ready... OK, now! Camera! 
Action!"

***

He was right. Although I had to go through the actions 
as we had last night, step by step (I might say "blow by 
blow", considering what we were doing), *exactly* as 
last night, including, as far as I could tell, facial 
expression, breathing rate, the whole schtick, I hated 
every moment of it. And I knew that Denise felt the 
same, although there was no way of telling it by looking 
at her. We were just a couple of puppets, under the 
control of the post-hypnotic spell that this monster had 
imposed on us.

And I can't deny that I enjoyed the experience. Every 
bit of it, the mutual undressing, the initial 
titillation, moving on to the more serious caressing, 
right on to the final sixty-nine yards, as the 
expression goes, all of it was just as enjoyable as it 
had been last night. On the physical level, that is, and 
that's the only thing that registered on the video tape. 
In my mind, however, was nothing but revulsion. Double 
revulsion, because Denise was being forced to go through 
this, too. 

To do such intimate things (things which were condemned 
by society as well) in public... No, not in public, but 
worse yet, in front of a private audience of howling 
boys with whom I would be going to classes for the next 
four years, boys that I was going to *belong* to for the 
next four years, and girls who, however they might be 
pitying me, would also be my schoolmates, this was 
indeed Hell night.

But we did it, with smiles on our faces, and all the 
enthusiasm of a pair of Lesbian lovers, right up to the 
final orgasm, and the blissful surrender to sleep in 
each other's arms.

They didn't really let us sleep, of course. We had to 
"take our bows" (still on camera) giving the boys plenty 
of opportunity to enjoy the full frontal exposure, 
dreaming, no doubt of the fun it was going to be to 
enjoy our bodies, at any time they wanted, in any way 
they wanted, and as long as they wanted, as they had 
pointed out.

And then one further humiliation. With the camera still 
rolling, they made us give the "harem cheer", which we 
apparently had learned along with our other "lessons". 
Both of us in unison, going through the gestures and 
gyrations that went with the cheer. The latter were too 
unspeakably embarrassing for me to repeat here, but the 
words will probably give you a clue:

"Cunt and tits, tits and cunt,
Everything we've got in front
Exist to please
Our sweet RD's, 
Both at work and play;

Asshole, mouth, and tongue and clit,
We are proud to take their shit, 
Meet their demands,
'Cause RD stands
For Rape a Dame a Day!

"Well done," Sammy praised us. "That'll go over big time 
at the next inter-sorority convocation. Or maybe, 
looking ahead a bit, at graduation, when your families 
are here, and all. But that's far into the future. In 
the meantime, we have another little act for you. This 
time, you're released from the hypnotic compulsion, and 
you will do whatever you decide to do as a matter of 
free choice.

"Here's the way it goes. One of you, we haven't decided 
yet which one, is going to torture the other." He 
laughed at our protests. "Yeah, I know it goes against 
your nature, especially taking into account the way you 
feel about each other, but we offer some inducements 
that may make you change your mind. You see, it goes 
like this. The one selected to be the torturer is going 
to persuade the other to French her to orgasm. When she 
has finished, the boys all get a turn at her. And if she 
doesn't like the idea, well, all we have to do is change 
the casting a bit, and let the other girl be the 
torturer. So the lucky one will willingly do the 
torturing, unless she wants to be the one who gives her 
friend a blow job before getting fucked by all these hot 
and horny young RD gentlemen.

"And then, to make sure that she does her utmost, we 
have one more rule. If she doesn't break her victim 
within the allotted period of time, then the girls trade 
places. And I might point out that the second girl has 
an advantage, two advantages, actually. One, she knows 
what tortures have been most effective on her, and 
second, she's been observing what techniques the other 
girl has been concentrating on, and will probably deduce 
that those are the techniques that the other girl fears 
most.

"And we," he smirked, "learn a bit from the episode, 
too. It seems logical that a woman would know better 
than we what tortures will be most effective on another 
woman, most painful and most repugnant, and again we'll 
learn a lot about your own specific 'preferences' in 
that area."

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 68