Sorority Halloween, Ch. 8 of the Sorority Auxiliary series

[micheleFFS]

Chapter 8: Sorority Halloween, Part 1

[Author’s note 1: This is the latest installment in the well-received Sorority Initiation series — a year late. This chapter can be read out of sequence, but new readers will certainly be more satisfied by reading the chapters in order. For your convenience, summary and links are at the end of the story, below a series of asterisks you can search for.
Author’s note 2: I make no apology for anachronistic British slang that cuts across class lines as well. The speakers are neither students of history nor professional writers.]

My funk continued Sunday morning. I forced myself to study and actually made some progress. I took a break near lunchtime, crossing campus to get coffee and a snack. I ran into Bethie sitting at a table in the coffee shop and asked if I could join him. He smiled wanly and indicated a chair at his table. I gave him my sympathy. He thanked me and told me a TDK alumna, a nurse, met him when he left the the House. She cared for him and planned to visit him again. In response to my questions, he said he was still in pain and that it hurt a bit to sit. “Worst I ever had, plus I’m banished. We all disobey somehow, eventually. The punishment’s not so severe if one of the Sisters sets you up. Not me, I totally lost control. I’ll be so glad when my punishnent’s over. I love eating pussy and the times I cum, especially when I’m selected to fuck.” He sighed and stared off into space.

I told him how sorry I was about his punishment. After a few minutes, I asked, “Do you really get to cum and to fuck at all often? I’ve not cum since initiation and I’m getting depressed. I mean, before I was recruited, I was a virgin, but at least I could jerk off. Now I can’t do that except I must play with myself when I’m not allowed to cum. It’s really getting to me.”

He told me it usually took a few weeks for new servants but that it would happen eventually. “Think of it this way. Me being out of rotation means your chances are greater. You do have a good rep. I heard Marci say you have a lot of potential. Try to be patient and don’t have an accident like I did.”

Back in my dorm, I got a revised schedule for the week. I had two weeknight shifts and one cooking shift. The big news was that all servants were to report to the House at different times Saturday to prepare for the Halloween party. My time was 4:00 and I should expect to be up late, possibly to be kept overnight.

Vague rumors swirled about Halloween. We actually went Trick or Treating, the Sisters gave us our costumes, and we returned to the house for a big party. But aspects of the evening remained hidden from us new boys. The more experienced servants seemed to feel Halloween was a good time overall.

I felt a bit better because I’d earned 5s from both Samantha and Teresa, keeping my average high. Veronica even included a comment agreeing I focused more on the needs of the Sisters rather than on my own desires. Well, maybe when I wasn’t planning to escape, I thought.

I served an unremarkable shift Monday. I licked Penelope after her workout and she slapped my cock until I shriveled up, then she pumped me back up. I gave Doris a massage and Kari used me for her bedtime cum.

After class Tuesday, I searched the net for information on RFID. I found a couple of forums about the subject, mostly populated by engineers who talked jargon I still didn’t understand. I learned of a listserv, but you had to work in the industry to get accepted. More negative progress. Damn, I wanted out of that cage.

But Wednesday, as I walked to my second shift of the week, I forgot all about trying to defeat the lock. Despite so may disappointments, I always felt excited to be in the House. Partly it was that I was free to get erect and aroused. I sure liked feeling so sexual. I enjoyed seeing so many sexy women, too, but the main draw of the House remained the hope that I’d finally fuck again or at least get permission to cum. I clung to the stories some of the more experienced boys told about being engulfed and very occasionally cumming from a blowjob.

Alas, another low key shift Wedesday. People concentrated on Halloween preparations. I provided Sofia an after-class massage, but got dismissed when Daniela came into her room. “I seldom use males sexually, so you can leave now,” she told me, as the two embraced.

I returned Below Stairs, to find Talissa rubbing his knob with his thumb and forefinger. I greeted him and reported my rather dull service.

“Was that you I heard bellowing in pain from Teresa’s room Saturday night? Sounded like she hurt you real good!”

“Yes, she was very cruel. She told me I could fuck her if I passed her test, but she rolled a spiked wheel all over my cockhead and I lost my erection. Later she taunted me and told me I never had a chance to fuck her at all. I was pretty depressed.”

“Well, she put you in your place. Good for her. And it’s called a Wartenberg wheel.”

I wasn’t really sure why Talissa seemed so put out with me, but I tried to be nice anyway. “Well, I guess you had a nice time that night. I saw you being led around by Angela and I curtsied, but I guess you were having so much fun neither of you saw me. Then, when Teresa dismissed me, I heard you thanking Angela. I guess you both were feeling good, judging by the sounds I heard in the hall.”

“I’ll thank you not to spy on us.”

I goggled him. “What? I heard you when I was in the hall. Happens all the time. I wasn’t spying. If anything, I was envious.”

“You think you’re so great ‘cause you’re getting weekend shifts so easy. Well, just you wait. The Sisters have a way of dealing with someone like you.”

I stared at him for a moment, unable to figure him out. He returned to playing with his cock, pointedly turning away from me. I sat down and found a story I hadn’t read on the table. Soon, I was involved in the story and my prick returned to an acceptable state of readiness. I still felt awkward near Talissa, so I went to get some dinner. As I returned from the kitchen, I met Marci in the hall and curtsied. Without a word, she grasped my stiffie and tugged me upstairs. She wore everyday school clothes, a mini that came halfway down her thighs and a blue blouse.

Veronica was not in their room and Marci closed the door. Talissa's weirdness still on my mind, I decided to see if I could learn anything from Marci, who always treated me fairly. “Mistress Marci, may I please have permission to ask you a question?”

“Yes, Jenny.”

“Mistress, one of the more experienced servants has been very rude to me, deliberately so. He implied that something bad will happen to me because, according to him, I’m excessively proud since I’ve done well as a new servant. Do you know if there’s any truth to this? Are the Sisters dissatisfied with me?”

To my chagrin, she eyed me with mild distaste. “We Sisters can’t be bothered with petty squabbles among the servants. We expect you to work them out without involving us. Believe me, you don’t want any of us to notice silly tiffs from Below Stairs. As for your reputation, your scores reflect our evaluation of your performance and obedience. Your scores show you performing very well for a new servant. Don’t do anything to endanger that status.”

I gulped. “Yes, Mistress Marci. Thank you for allowing me to ask and for your answer. As always, I am eager to serve you in any way I can.”

“Naturally, I am your superior. Undress me.”

Not the most difficult duty I’d ever been assigned. I unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. Next, the skirt. Marci wore diamond patterned stockings held up by a lacy garter belt, the adjusters as tight as possible to keep the long stockings above the skirt’s hem. Matching lace panties and bra completed a very sexy outfit. “Mistress Marci, you look so beautiful.” I curtsied and dropped to one knee.

To my consternation, Marci snorted derisively and spoke very slowly and precisely. “It’s no use. I’m still annoyed with you about your silly question. I was ready to permit you to worship my body, but now I need to punish you.” She indicated the closet. “In there, you’ll find a purple gym bag. Bring me the ping pong paddle, the short leather crop, and the strap-on with its harness.”

I gulped. I didn’t like getting butt-fucked, and I feared her sudden change of tone and attitude. But I said, “Yes, Mistress Marci.” It took me a few moments to find the items among the other toys in the bag. I cradled them in my outstretched hands and knelt before Marci, who sat on the bed. “Here are the toys you required, Miss Marci.”

She accepted them and laid them at the head of the bed. She stood and pointed to the bed. “Bend over, spread,” she said sternly.

I obeyed. Wordlessly, Marci handspanked me vigorously until my buns stung, then swiftly cropped me. No sensuous over the knee slow, erotic spanking, but instead sudden generation of pain and heat. At first, she used the shaft of the crop. I felt the sharp, searing pain across both cheeks and I knew I’d soon sport a fresh field of furrow marks.

Then Marci moved a step back. She swung her arm wider and used the tip of the crop on me. That really hurt. I couldn't help myself; I jiggled about as she concentrated on one cheek or the other. “Hold still, you! I know you can take it.”

With a deep breath, I steeled myself, clenching my legs while trying to make my buttcheeks relax. It didn’t hurt less, but at least I kept still as Marci lashed me. I grit my teeth and grunted with each strike. I appreciated the warm-ups I usually received anew.

Marci stopped for a moment and fumbled on the bed. I heard her fitting the strap-on harness on her hips. I sighed woefully.

Crack! Crack! The crop cut across my ass. There were five straps on the harness and as she tightened each one, Marci dealt me two sharp strikes with the crop. In pain, frightened of what was to come,,my breathing was loud and ragged.

“Spread those ass cheeks! Tilt up, the angle’s not right.”

Using both hands, I opened up for her. “Uh!” I grunted as she invaded me. Marci plunged her dildo into me fast and furious. This one had a thick head that hurt a lot! Then, to add to my punishment, she smacked me again and again with the ping pong paddle. That hurt and the entire experience was frightening. A mere question, which I had permission to ask, elicited this horrendous change in a Sister who seemed kindly disposed to me.

Yet I wanted to please her if I could. I thrust back, trying to time my gasps and grunts with her forward thrusts. I wasn’t very successful, though. Pain and fear are hard to disguise as pleasure.

“Don’t bother me with any of your personal shit! I’ll just pack your shit back in your asshole where it belongs!” raged Marci, striking and ramming me again and again.

“I won’t, Mistress Marci! I learned my lesson! You really know how to drive your point home, Mistress! I’m sorry I tried to involve you, Mistress. I thank you for your instruction and punishment.”

Marci wasn’t paying attention. Gasping and grunting herself, she thrust into me very hard, jabbing her dildo deep into me again and again with short, sharp thrusts. “Ah, ah, aaahhh!” she cried, dropping the paddle. She lay on my back, recovering her breath. I gasped as well.

After a few moments, with a loud pop, she withdrew from me. I took another deep breath and turned, kneeling with my eyes to the floor. “Miss Marci, I thank you for the correction you took the time to give me. I have learned very well indeed not to take concerns from Below Stairs to any of the Sisters. I thank you again.”

“Very well. I question the sincerity of the thanks, but I believe you have learned the lesson. Remove the strap-on.”

As soon as I’d unbuckled it, Marci commanded, “Kiss the dildo.” She heard my gasp and took in my look of dismay and horror. With a slight lilt in her voice she said, “I didn’t tell you where to kiss it.”

With a deep sigh of relief, I kissed the inside of the shaft, where slight corrugations evidently helped hold it in place and presumably stimulated her clit. Marci watched with an amused sneer. She then told me to take all the used toys to the washroom, clean them, and return.

While I used cleanser and light disinfectant on the toys, I took a moment to rub some lotion on my inflamed asshole. It helped only a little.

Back in the room, I replaced the toys and, somewhat fearfully, faced Marci to see if she had anything else in store for me. Still in her sexy lingerie, she sat on the bed with her legs crossed, regarding me, showing no emotion. After a moment, she took a deep breath and favored me with a big smile.

“Well, I still want a massage, even more so after exorcising my annoyance on you. You were doing a nice, slow job of undressing me.” She laughed and said, “Continue.”

Was this the same woman who’d been so cold and cruel a few minutes ago? Flabbergasted, I removed her bra, breathing hard as I gazed again at her firm, conical breasts. I slid her tiny panties from her hips, once again taking in that arousing scent.

I’d never seen Marci’s pussy before so I stared as I slid her panties down her thighs. Utterly hairless, darker than the skin of her hips, the thick lips protruded impudently, closing completely over her hidden inner lips. She was quite lubricated and precum dribbled from my tip in response.

Rather to my disappointment, she had me take off her heels, stockings and garter belt. She lay face down on the bed and I massaged her all over, scalp, neck, back, arms, calves, thighs, butt. At the end, she spread her legs a bit and had me finger her to a slow, langorous orgasm. She lay still for a few moments, then rolled over. Her gaze fell on my erection and, much to my delight, she grasped it and fondled me.

“You do have a rather nice cock, Jenny. But it hasn’t cum since your trial and training weekend, has it?”

“No, Miss Marci, it hasn’t.” I tried to keep my sadness and my hope from my voice. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Marci showed mercy?

She tightened her grip and began jerking me off. That felt good! “Word is it has good staying power. Teresa said you lasted well under the wheel.”

“Really? I felt like she popped me like a balloon.”

Marci laughed. “Haven’t you learned that two seemingly contradictory truths can exist at the same time? What’s our education system coming to?”

I laughed too. “Yes, you’re right. But she sure hurt me with that wheel.”

“Good for her. That’s what you’re here for. Service, pain, teasing. Worship my breasts.”

Grinning, still amazed at her sudden transformation, I began by blowing a warm breath over her conical boobs. I palmed the undersides, applied a bit of pressure.

The door opened and Veronica entered, eyes wide open and darting about, long strides making her heels click as she traversed the narrow way between the door and the bed. “I need you, Marci. Dismiss him,” she said, her voice cracking.

Marci pushed me away by my head. “Leave us.” She stared at her lover.

I retrieved my panties from the floor and practically fled the room.

Back Below Stairs, to my relief Talissa was gone. Steffie smiled at me, then returned to his reading. After a few moments, he put his paperback book aside and listened to my tale. We both wondered what had so obviously disturbed Veronica. Steffie hadn’t been selected for service yet that evening.

We servants developed a habit of conversing in short fragments of a discussion, interrupted at intervals as we strove to be acceptably stiff should a Sister walk in. A very strange social dynamic. Anywhere else it would be rather rude to begin masturbating in the middle of a conversation. Not Below Stairs!

I told him about my meeting with poor Bethie and we both said we wanted to be obedient and avoid his fate.

He asked me what the question I asked Marci had been, so I told him about my troubles with Talissa.

“Talissa’s a good servant, and I guess he does well, ‘cause he gets lotsa time with the Sisters, particularly Angela. Did Angela use you or something?”

“Yes, once.”

“That’s probably it, he feels threatened and jealous. I suggest you ignore him or find some way to snub him.”

Right about then, Penelope came in. We stood and curtsied, both of us perilously close to limpness. She eyed us sardonically. “Talking too much, boys? Pump it up!”

We obediently wanked away. She shifted her gaze from one of us to the other. We both looked at her hopefully. “Steffie, I like your touch. Come with me.”

With a joyful “Yes, Mistress,” off he went.

I began reading a book about a man who attempted to pick up a girl in a bar. He tried to engage him in conversation, but she cut him off, asking if he was adventurous. He said he was, intending to brag about his hunting, but again, she interrupted, challenging him to come to her apartment on condition that he do whatever she said. “I will promise you’ll like some of what happens, though some may not please you. You’ll always be free to go.” Of course he followed her. What else could he do? She was a tall, slender brunette with a heart shaped face and hair to her waist. Her penthouse apartment was in the same building as the bar, but her demeanor in the elevator did not invite conversation.

I was about to read on when Talissa entered. He glanced at me and sat with his back turned, as far from me as the confined space permitted.

I decided to ignore him and returned to my book. The guy entered her apartment and found it luxurious. The woman directed him to the wet bar in the corner and told him to pour each of them a gin and tonic. He did so, even though he didn’t like gin and tonic. He’d just gotten back to the couch where the woman sat when a new arrival Below Stairs interrupted me.

Doris entered silently. To my surprise, she wore a floral print flannel nightgown that covered her, neck to ankles. Lambs wool slippers poked from beneath the cotton lace hem. A little late, Talissa and I stood and curtseyed.

She saw the slight smile at the corners of my mouth. “You are amused, Jenny?”

“Perhaps, Mistress. Definitely surprised. All the Sisters dress appropriately for any occasion; I just haven’t seen any of you in ordinary bedtime attire before. Very feminine and pretty indeed, but different from the birthday suits or lingerie I’m used to seeing when I’m privileged to tuck someone in.”

She laughed and beckoned to me. “Come tuck me in then. I was studying hard and thought I’d drop right off, but chemical bonds keep running through my head.”

Up in her room, Doris sat in her chair for a neck and scalp massage before having me turn down her bed and give her a backrub through her nightgown. After a while, she rolled over and had me turn up her nightie. I knew just what to do and soon, she was fully relaxed, my fingers and lips smelled of pussy, and she had me tug the long garment back in place and tuck her in with a kiss to her forehead.

As I went down from her third floor room, I heard sobbing from behind Veronica and Marci’s door.

Below Stairs, Ariana, a Freshman Sister I’d few dealings with, awaited me with my hated cage in her hand. Short, blonde hair framed her pixie face. Each night, one of the underclass Sisters had to check us servants. “You’re the last one tonight, Jenny.” I obediently stood with my legs spread, my hands behind my back while she locked me up. Grrr.... I thought.

But I wasn’t done. Ariana sat on one of the couches and flipped up her skirt, revealing a delicately manicured bush and pouty lips with very large inner labia protruding. “Relax me,” came her command. I brought her to two climaxes and she told me to get dressed and leave.

On the walk across campus, my thoughts turned to my rebellious search for release. My searches for the device and for the technology had not gone well. I decided to try a different approach. Back at my dorm room, on a well-known free email service, I set up a dummy account that would be difficult to trace to me. I took the name JNY Security. By that time, I had to hit the hay myself, but sadly cumless, unlike my mistresses.

In the morning, an email informed us all of the reason for Veronica’s tears. Her grandmother had died rather suddenly. She was leaving and wasn’t expected back until Sunday night. I walked to the campus bookstore and purchased a sympathy card. Pausing only to write some kind words, I went straight to the Sorority house and knocked on the door.

Ariana opened it and said, “Jenny, what are you doing here? You don’t have a shift now.”

“No, but I hoped to get this condolence card to Veronica before she left. Has she?”

Ariana smiled, “No, and I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. You may give it to her yourself. She’s in the kitchen.”

Veronica, holding hands with Marci, ringed by several other sisters, turned her bloodshot eyes to me as I entered, registering some surprise.

I handed her the card, saying, “Miss Veronica, I was very sorry to hear of the loss of your grandmother. Please accept my condolences.”

She favored me with a weak smile. “Thank you, Jenny, and thanks for coming over. I appreciate it.”

“I lost my grandfather a year ago,” I said, “so even though I can tell you were closer to your grandmother than I was to him, I perhaps have some inkling how you may feel.”

She smiled again and hugged me and then I left for class. As I left, I heard Dorothea say, “...big loss for us all.” I figured she meant Veronica missing the party.

After class, I updated my log and checked my evaluations. I was really curious to see whether Marci had logged her punishment of me or forgotten it with all the attention on Veronica.

She had indeed logged. “Jenny annoyed me with a question about the behavior of another servant. He was not tattling but still...who wants to hear that? I took it out on and in his ass, and I don’t think he’ll bother any of us with Below Stairs squabbles again. After punishing him, I let bygones be bygones and used him to relax until Veronica arrived with her sad news.” Marci gave me a 4, and Doris and Ariana each gave me 5s. I even got a 5 from Dorothea for bringing the card. “Every appearance of genuineness,” she wrote. So that felt good.

My homework load was pretty light that night. I was done by 9:00, so I surfed the net for purveyors of security systems. I couldn’t find exactly what I was looking for. I decided to write a query letter. Here’s the substance:

“My client is concerned with reliably detecting an unauthorized intrusion rather than preventing intrusions altogether. The device to be protected is used at multiple locations at unpredictable times and is often out of the client’s control. Therefore, indexed zip ties and the like are inadequate. A preferred lock would be a small, lightweight device controlled by a RFID chip. The locking device must be heat resistant enough to be embedded in a polycarbonate plastic (> 155 °C) during manufacture. Can you point me to any such product?”

I sent this query to several firms that sold various locking systems to manufacturers. I figured now it was only a matter of time. Somebody manufactured those locks.

My Friday cooking shift was both demanding and educational. I remained caged throughout and no one was on duty Below Stairs. Nicola, Steffie, and I served as assistants to a couple of caterers, making Halloween confections but also trays of fancy canapes. I learned a lot from those pros.

No Friday answers to my inquiry letters except autoresponse acknowledgements, but I wasn’t too surprised. I figured it might take salesmen some time to find the device.

Impatient for the big night, I spent Saturday studying pretty hard, since I might not come home that night.

I arrived at a few minutes to four. Samantha admitted and unlocked me. She informed me that erection discipline was not in force and told to strip Below Stairs, then go upstairs to Marci. Relieved that I didn’t have to maintain an erection, I nevertheless became partially erect, my cock’s way of rejoicing at release.

Curtseying to the Sisters I met on the stairs, I soon knocked on Marci’s door. She greeted me with a smile. “Have you been in touch with Veronica? How is she?” I asked.

Marci told me Veronica was with her family and doing OK. The memorial service was to be next Saturday and Veronica would return later that day. “We planned this evening for you together, Jenny, and Veronica asked me to tell you she’s sorry she can’t be here. It would have been a much nicer evening for us all if she’d remained. Everything we have planned for you tonight has her full approval. You might even enjoy some of it yourself. I know I will.

Marci wore an orange miniskirt that cut across her upper thighs, black stockings, a black blouse with an orange scarf. She then led me into the washroom, which had a peculiar, unpleasant odor. She had me stand on a bath towel next to the sink counter. She indicated a bowl with some lime-green goop. She told me to cover myself with this stuff, neck to feet. I barely got started when Doris and Nicola arrived, bent on a similar task. Naturally, they had us smear the stinking stuff over each other as they watched. They made certain we covered the area between waist and thighs, front and back, extra well. Our inquires as to what this was about were met with smiles, laughter and “You’ll find out soon enough.” Once we were covered, the Sisters told us to hold still. They consulted their watches.

While we stood there, other pairs came in and soon there were five males looking like grotesque statues made of Green Goddess salad dressing.

After about 10 minutes, Nicola and I received damp towels and wiped the stuff off each other while applying some pressure.

“Hey, all our hair’s coming off!” Nicola and I spoke practically in unison. We paused and looked at each other in dismay, shrugged, and obediently carried on.

“Oh, come on!” “Now this!” “They’ll stop at nothing.” Some of our peers’ comments on our discovery.

Nicola and I soon finished this fresh denuding. We showered and dried ourselves.

Marci then inspected me, holding an electric razor. “Stand with your legs well spread, Jenny.” She buzzed off a small patch on my chest, another near by belly button, then she moved my cock and ballsack about, using the razor’s trimmer in a few places. I flinched.

“Hold still, Jenny. You don’t want to spoil my aim, do you?”

Biting my lip and mumbling, I managed to remain motionless until she moved down to my legs. Next, my back. She had me bend over and trimmed all up and down my crack. It was utterly humiliating, but by the time I was done, the rest servants reached a similar stage.

After a final rinse with a washcloth and a fresh shave of my face with a new disposable razor, Marci grasped my cock and led me back to her bedroom. She had me lie down on my back and used a comb and tweezers to pluck my eyebrows.

“Do you get the idea now, Jenny?”

“Let me guess....Hmmm....I bet I’m going to Halloween as a girl.”

“Not just any girl. I'm tarting you up to look like Mandy Rice-Davies.”

“Who?”

“Not a student of history, I see. Back in the 1960s, Britain had a huge sex scandal because the War Minister was caught sleeping with a girl, Christine Keeler, who in all likelihood was also fucking a Soviet military attache. The scandal brought out all kinds of secrets, orgies and the like. Christine’s friend, Mandy, also quite beautiful, enjoyed (at least I think she enjoyed it) a brief period in the spotlight, partly because she was considered by many to be even prettier than Keeler, and her reputation was wilder.” All the while, she plucked away, frequently referring to a picture placed on the headboard above me. With a last look, she smiled.

“Here, read this while I prepare for the next step.” She handed me a paper covered in print. “Keep the main points in your head ‘cause you’ll be asked to tell your story at times tonight.”

As I learned more about the Profumo Affair and Mandy’s part in it, Marci was busy at her make-up table. A cloth covered the mirror, so I couldn’t see what she did to me. She had me sit there and began putting make-up on me, explaining each step: False red fingernails, beard cover, foundation, powder, bronzer, highlighter, eye shadow foundation, eye shadow, eyebrow pencil, false eyelashes, eyelash liner, mascara (The last three were a real trial to receive, the applicators were so close to my eye.), lipliner, lipstick, gloss. She kept referring to the picture she wouldn’t let me see.

Marci’s face so close to mine plus her holding and turning my head while she changed my appearance engendered a tender, intimate feel to the procedure. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being dressed as a girl, but I liked being so close to Marci.

With a final glance at the picture, she nodded her satisfaction and directed me to fetch a garment bag from the closet. With a sigh, I retrieved what proved to be my costume. Marci, obviously prolonging my discomfort, described each item as she displayed them on the bed for me.

“A string of pearls, earrings with a dangling penis on one side and an open vulva on the other, a 69 ring, and a charm bracelet depicting sexual positions. A blue form-fitting dress with a very tight skirt (Remember we took all your sizes at imitation?), four inch matching heels, a lacy D-cup bra. Look, falsies to fill them out. Naughty falsies with big nipples. Won’t you look jus darling with big boobs, Jenny?”

Mortified, I attempted to put a brave face on it. “I’m sure you’ll make me look as feminine and sexy as possible, Marci.”

“Next, this lovely waist cincher to nip in your girlish waist and hold up your coffee-colored, seamed full fashion stockings. And finally, these lacy panties with tight rings for each buttcheek in the rear. I love a guy with a lacy bubble butt!” She glanced at me. “Why, Jenny, you don’t look thrilled. But you’re going to be a very pretty girl and very popular. Come, let’s get you dressed.

“Start with the waist cincher. Fasten it backwards using the tightest set of hooks and spin it around like I taught you to do with the bra. That’s a good girl.”

She demonstrated how to put her arm down a stocking and gather its length in one hand. “It’s time you learned how hard it is for a girl to be alluring and sexy. Be careful with your new nails, girl. That’s the way, Jenny. Now point your toe and draw the stocking up to your ankle and adjust it if necessary. Next, stretch your leg out and slowly roll the stocking up, moving your hands back and forth so you can check that the seam’s straight. Oh, you look sexy! Now the other leg. Want to know how to please me?”

“Always, Mistress Marci.”

“Good. Then put that second stocking on as slowly and sensuously as you can and give me your best bedroom eyes.”

I took a deep breath and began the rather exacting process of rolling on the second stocking. I stretched my leg out and simpered at Marci, feeling absolutely foolish and humiliated. Me a seductive girl? What a joke!

Marci smiled and laughed. “Well, you are pretty, Jenny, but you’ve got a lot to learn before you’ll be a coquette.” She tousled my hair. Next, she had me stand and fasten the six straps of the waist cincher to hold up the stockings. She had me adjust them as tight as possible, tugging the welt of the stockings up in sharp points.

Marci then put laces in the cincher’s back and tightened them, further nipping my waist. “Now, before donning your bubble butt lace front panties, a reward. Lie on the bed.” I lay down obediently, and to my great surprise and delight, Marci bent over and fondled my penis for a moment, then slowly took first the head, then the shaft into her mouth. She rolled my soft penis around with her tongue. That didn’t last long, as soon my stiffness exceeded the muscle strength of her tongue. I pumped my hips up and down, while Marci varied the suction. Oh, that felt good!

After a particularly pleasurable nip on my cockhead, Marci took her lips from me a moment. “Delicious precum,” she said, smiling. “Tell me when you edge and don’t you dare cum.” She then sucked the entire shaft and made a gagging noise before drawing back. I’d never been so deep in a mouth before. Wow, did that ever feel great. She did it again, and I had to hold on with all my effort. “Edge!” I blurted, desperate.

Marci, ever vigilant, backed off. I lay unmoving, gasping as though in the middle of a prolonged edging session, rather than my first edge in days.

“One more edge for you, Jenny,” teased Marci, taking me back in her mouth. In almost no time I was right up against the need to cum, holding it in as best I could, but this time Marci didn’t relent, but kept my cock deep inside her, still gagging. It was a stupendous effort and very exciting and frustrating for me.

Finally, with a retch, she released me. I gasped and so did she, but she smiled after a moment and took my cock in one hand and my ballsack in the other. Giving me her sweetest TCD, she sharply twisted the shaft and squeezed my balls. I screamed with pain and fear. Marci cruelly kept the twisting and pressure on for a few seconds, then released me. I collapsed on the bed, gasping in relief, covered with sweat. I managed to blurt out a moderately sincere, “Thank you, Miss Marci, for preparing me for the evening and for allowing me to edge for you.”

Marci allowed me a few minutes to recover, then said, “Well, beautiful, let’s finish dressing you.” She handed me the panties, a curious garment with tight, flesh colored latex across the top of the front over my belly, and a pretty lace panel below to encase and partially display my nestled penis. The lace was in two stretchy pieces so my penis remained available. The back, made of heavier latex, had two tapered holes to shape and push out my buttcheeks. I struggled into them and finally snugged then into place.

“Oh, your tush looks so good that way!” Marci fondled my protruding cheeks, then hand spanked me as I stood there, soon taking a handy paddle from the dressing table and making me very warm indeed. She struck pretty hard. “Compression makes the flesh more sensitive, don’t you agree, Jenny?”

“Oh, yes, yes I do, Mistress,” I said, my butt blazing.

Somewhat to my surprise, Marci stopped pretty soon. “Now for the final touches.”

I pulled the dress over my head and, with some help from Marci, put on the jewelry. She put a shoulder length blonde wig with bangs on me and teased the hair a bit.

I wanted to see myself in the mirror. I hadn’t wanted to be dressed as a girl, but the whole process was so detailed I was curious about the result. Marci had other ideas. She bade me arrange the pillows at the head of the bed and then gave me directed me to sit with my legs drawn up. When I was in position, she took a few pictures. She reviewed the pictures and nodded her satisfaction.

“Now, take a look.” She whisked the cover from the mirror and I stared at my slutty sister, I have no better way to describe it. My face shone, my eyes were large and alluring with purple eyeshadow and long, heavily mascaraed lashes, bright full lips, and a rather large bust. If I hadn’t looked so slutty, I could have been pretty. “What do you think, Jenny, or, I should say, Mandy?”

“Why Mistress, I didn’t think it was possible, but you actually made me look like a very sexy girl. Thank you, Miss Marci. I was sure I’d look grotesque.”

“Not you, sweetie. I noticed early on that your face had some distinctly feminine features. I used face recognition software to find a woman who came close. See? Here’s the picture I used as a guide.

I saw the pose she’d talked me into. Next, she showed me the pictures she took of me. Wow, the resemblance was uncanny. Major differences were that Marci gave me a more prominent bust, my hem was shorter, revealing stocking tops even when I stood (bare thigh and garters in my version of the pose) and my make-up was much more tarty than Mandy’s — but perhaps more like her appearance when she was a prime sex provider to the rich and powerful. I had very mixed feelings about my transformation. I was glad I didn’t look ugly or like a man in a dress, but being all girly and slutty represented another layer of humiliation.

Marci next gave me some lessons in walking in heels. My balance was up to it and she soon had me placing one foot in front of the other and waggling my hips.

“Oh, you are so hot as a girl, Mandy,” she enthused. “Come here.” She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled up her skirt. Her black hose, topped with lace, hugged her thighs tightly, snugged up by a contrasting white garter belt. “Normally, I’d have you lick me, but I don’t want you to spoil your make up. Use your hands to bring me off.”

I smiled as I gently rubbed her thighs and tummy, gradually moving closer to her damp spot. I rubbed her lips up and down, slowly, enjoying the sight and scent as her wetness increased. I truly loved bringing the Sisters off. It fulfilled my need to serve in the second best possible way.

I increased the pressure. Soon, Marci’s breathing grew ragged. “Faster,” she commanded.

I sped up and a few moments later, Marci lay back on the bed, propping her heels on my shoulders. She cried out, writhing as she came. I stained my panties with precum in sympathy. I kept going, and soon, Marci came again, her hips spasming up and down, as she gave tongue to her ecstasy with a wordless scream. Coming down, she lightly patted my cheek, smiling. “We trained you well, beautiful Jenny.”

She sat up and took a final inventory of me, adjusting my hair and quizzing me on my character. I even practiced the speech I was to give when requested.

“Now run along downstairs and help out with the refreshments.”

I tottered downstairs, clutching the banister. With great difficulty, I curtsied to Dorothea on the stairs, which clearly amused her.

In the kitchen, a few other servants were in outlandish costumes from many eras of history. Under the direction of the sardonically smiling caterer, we laid out punch, canapes, dip, crackers and other party food, some with traditional Halloween decorations and some depicting subservient males and dominant females.

Some of the other servants, depicting classical women of mystery and therefore wearing sandals, used ladders to decorate the large living room, with powerful and terrifying witches receiving prominence.

As I walked on my heels, I got better. I remembered to swivel my hips and received several playful smacks. I discovered, despite myself, that I rather liked the tight stockings on my legs and the sliding tension of the garters. I soon took pride in my walk and strutted a bit.

Gradually, the Sisters appeared from upstairs. Each was dressed as a male counterpart to the female whom they’d costumed. A few of us had been prepared by two Sisters, and I supposed I would have been prepared by Marci and Veronica if she had remained.

Marci appeared as a dapper Englishman, derby hat, pinstripe suit, cane, even a monocle. She took me in tow and sought Angela, dressed similarly, but without the monocle and cane. Instead she had a red boutonniere and a briefcase. Her suit looked more expensive than Marci’s. She introduced herself as Steven Ward, Christine Keeler’s lover and probable pimp in the old scandal. Sure enough, alongside her was Talissa in a slinky dress even shorter than mine and a gaudy red wig. Her make-up was more over the top than mine. “I bet you’re Christine Keeler,” I guessed.

“That’s right, Mandy,” said Angela. “You two are best friends and sisters in tarthood.” Talissa and I glared at each other. Marci and Angela laughed. I wondered if they knew of the tension between us. Whether they did or not, we were in for a night of it, I figured.

Dorothea then got everyone’s attention. “The decorations are up, the refreshments are in place, and the fun can begin. It’s just dark, so our trick or treating begins. Sisters, Kari will give you your routes for trick or treating. You know what your newly dressed girls are to do at the houses. Be back at 9:00 for the contest and festivities.”

We set out. I noticed I walked a bit more steadily, and a lot more seductively, than Talissa. We walked behind Marci and Angela, looking like the other trick or treaters with parents around for safety, except for our size and lack of candy bags. The Sisters paused frequently to observe our walks. Angela soon became exasperated with Talissa.

“You’re putting me to a lot of trouble, Talissa. I have to walk behind you to correct your walk.” Borrowing Marci’s cane, she twitched his hips with each step, making Talissa’s ass swing properly. He fell down once but soon got his girly walk to a degree acceptable to Angela.

“Well, that’s better, but still not as good as Jenny.”

Great, I thought. That’ll make things better between us.

We stopped in front of a brownstone a few blocks from the Sorority House. A man dressed as a French maid stood at t he bottom of the stairs, handing out candy to child trick or treaters chaperoned by parents.The Sisters coached us a minute on how they wanted us to act, then we went up the stairs and rang the doorbell.

“Who’s there?” came a female voice.

“Trick or treat!” we two yelled in unison.

Sandy, the alumna from the lingerie store, opened the door. She wore a Greek toga that covered her from head to foot. A silver tiara held her hair in a bun with long tresses streaming down her back. “Oh, two beautiful women. How nice. I may even have seen you before. You are?”

“I’m Christine Keeler...”

“...and I’m Mandy Rice-Davies. We...”

“We, or really I, toppled a government in Britain and...

“Well, you started the whole thing...”

“I slept with the War Minister...

“But I stole the limelight with my better looks...”

“and with a Soviet spy.”

Sandy regarded us with her arms akimbo and irritation growing in her eyes. “That’s enough, you two. Interrupting, bragging, cat fighting right here on my front landing!” She grabbed our wrists and pulled us into the house, followed by Angela and Marci.

“Stand still, girls,” Sandy commanded us. She then walked all around us, stopping in front and peering at our faces. She beamed at Marci and Angela. “Beautiful transformations. Both girls look feminine and slutty. Christine is very slutty, while the more subdued tartiness of Mandy looks realistic.” She had us unzip and remove each other’s dresses. Talissa’s fake boobs and stockings were held up by a lacy, partially transparent girdle apparatus that covered him from bracup to mid thigh with his penis protruding from a special hole. As we each pirouetted to show off, I saw his cheeks bulging from openings similar to mine. Sandy tugged my penis and balls from their thin lace case.

“Now on the punishment. What behaviors did I identify?”

“Bragging, cat fighting...” I began.

“...and interrupting,” put in Talissa. Everyone laughed.

Sandy marched us through the foyer over to two roughly triangular spanking benches in the center of the living room. Without needing to be told, we bent over and gripped the legs near the floor. My toes touched the floor, and my head hung down well below my bum. I felt very exposed, as my cock dangled down.

Sandy stood between and behind us, lecturing as she fondled our limp cocks. “Interrupting, bragging, and cat fighting, in order of increasing severity. With the assistance of my friends here, we’ll correct each of these behaviors. Now politely ask us to punish you to teach you not to interrupt.”

Talissa started off with, “Please teach me not to interrupt...” and went on for some time. I kept my mouth shut.

When he was through begging for punishment, Sandy addressed me with an edge to her voice. “Mandy, didn’t I tell you to ask for punishment?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Then why haven’t you done so?”

“Mistress, Christine asked first, so if I asked then, I’d have interrupted her and earned extra punishment.”

“Well, that’s right, you would have. But now you earn extra punishment for disobedience. Did that ever occur to you, Mandy?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress, I was pretty sure I was in for it either way. Shall I now ask for punishment?”

“Yes.”

“Mistresses, I apologize for my disobedience and I thank you for ensuring I’d earn extra, since it pleases you to do so. I ask that you spank me or punish me in any way you see fit so that I’ll learn not to interrupt. Interrupting is disrespectful to the speaker and to anyone else listening. I do understand that my interruptions of Christine were annoying to you. I thank you in advance for taking the time and effort to correct my behavior.”

Sandy accepted our requests for punishment and told us we had to earn our punishments by precumming. She massaged us, a bit roughly for me and I suppose for Talissa as well. So guess what? We announced “Precum” at the same time.

“Interrupting again! You lot surely need this correction.” With that, to the laughter of the Mistreses (and Talissa and me as well), Sandy began with a handspanking, soon moving to a paddle.

However, the spanking didn’t last long, nothing like what I was used to. As soon as we reported we were totally soft, Sandy directed that Marci stimulate Talissa while Angela stimulated me. We were to let them know when we edged.

With our heads hanging down as they were, Talissa and I locked eyes. He glared at me, so I looked away.

Angela’s touch, gentle and stronger by turns, excited me fast. I shamelessly humped the spanking bench and soon announced my edge. Talissa was right behind me.

“Bragging,” said Sandy. “Toppling a government, being better looking. Ask for your punishments.”

I asked for permission to go first, and it was granted, to much laughter and exaggerated compliments. Again, the punishment was not nearly as long or as severe as I anticipated.

When this second spanking ended, the three Mistresses stood in front of us as we bent over the benches. “Stand,” commanded Sandy. We stood, hands behind our backs, looking down at the spanking benches.

Sandy glared at us both. “Talissa,” she said, “state the nature of the third offense.”

“Cat fighting, Mistress.”

“How have you been cat fighting, Talissa?” She gave an edge to his name.

“I used bragging and interrupting to get one up on Mandy at the door.”

“Look at me,” grated Sandy, obviously angry. “ I mean the real cat fighting, the Below Stairs crap between you two. I looked up to be on the safe side, just as Sandy cracked the back of her hand across Talissa’s cheek.

“Ow!” gasped Talissa. The force of the blow knocked him off balance, and he tottered on his heels and fell once again.

“Get up!”

Looking surprised and hurt, Talissa scrambled back to his feet.

Angela and Marci flanked Sandy, eyes snapping.

“Now, Talissa first, tell us about the cat fighting.”

Talissa, eyes wide, took a couple of deep breaths, gathering his thoughts. “I have been nasty to Jenny, I admit, ‘cause he lords it over us...”

Another slap, this one from Angela herself, sent him reeling, barely able to maintain his balance. “I’m very angry with you, Talissa! You know better than to describe someone else’s behavior when confessing to a Sister. Now start over and don’t make it worse for you.”

Talissa, rubbing his jaw, eyes filled with tears, tried again. “I was nasty to Jenny ever since Mistress Angela chose him over me one day. I ignored him and claimed he was spying on me when he tried to wish me well. I admit I don’t like him and I tried to make him unhappy. I am sorry I did it and that my actions disturbed you and any other Sisters.”

The three Sisters, arms akimbo, regarded him and hmmphed. They turned their hard eyes to me. “And you? What was your part in this?”

I’d used the time Talissa was grilled to my advantage, I hoped. “Mistresses, I failed to try to make Talissa feel better when I realized he was hurt when Mistress Angela used me. As we servants do, I told how you used me Below Stairs when I could have waited until Talissa wasn’t there, but...well, no but. I could have waited. Then a few days ago, I started to speak to Mistress Marci about my feelings. She stopped me and punished me, for which I thanked her. And I meant it.

“The only other thing I can think of was something Ta...something I heard, that I’ve been snobby because I’ve done well as a new servant. I don’t want to be like that and I hope I haven’t been.”

“You haven’t bragged about your success?” Marci’s eyes bored into me.

“No, Mistress, I have not. If anyone says so, I’d like to know so I can learn from it. If I came across as snobby, it was unintentional.” I thought for a moment. “Maybe...Weeks ago, Christina, Zoe and I compared notes. They asked me my scores, and when I told them, they got quiet and didn’t mention theirs, so I thought I’d keep my scores to myself. If anyone asks me about my scores, I am vague or I tell the truth, but I don’t brag or try to make anyone feel bad.”

The three Sisters traded glances. Angela rounded on Talissa. “Did you tell others Jenny was bragging?”

“No, Mistress, never. Earlier this week, I said he lorded it over us ‘cause he got weekend shifts so fast, but I did not tell anyone else he was bragging.” His eyes suddenly filled with tears. He took a step toward Angela. “Mistress Angela, I was afraid he’d take my place with you. You know how I feel about you. I love and worship you.”

“I’m not concerned with your emotions right now but with your actions. I’m glad you didn’t make up tales about Jenny.”

Talissa stepped back, blinking back the tears.

Sandy said, “Well, you both deserve punishment and these incidents will go on your record. Clearly, some one else doesn’t like Jenny and we’ll get to the bottom of this. Bend over again.”

All three Mistresses used flexible riding crops on us, reminding us that this was a very English punishment for two British tarts.

Marci questioned me during the ordeal. Didn’t I understand that my success could make people jealous and see me as a schemer or snob? She scoffed at my bewilderment and, lashing me as hard as she could, she reminded me that she and Veronica had already talked to me about failure to think of the feelings and desires of others.

We cried and wailed. As we pulled ourselves together after the chastisement, I caught a glimpse of Talissa’s ass after our ordeal. Deep bruises blossoomed, criss-crossed by stripes. I supposed my ass was the same. Sure felt that way.

After all that, it was only natural for us to apologize to each other. I wasn’t sure how genuine Talissa’s apology was any more than he was sure whether mine was real. The Sisters said they’d monitor our behavior toward one another.

Sandy left the room for a moment, returning with a massive decorated archery bow, a German Shepherd at her side. Artemis, Greek goddess of the hunt.

Marci and Angela fixed our make-up. We donned our complete costumes and we all left to resume trick or treating, Talissa and I walking slowly and gingerly, not from the heels.

We only went a block or two before we came to another Victorian town house. Susie, Ms Samson’s hubbette, distributed candy to kids, dressed as a medieval serving wench. We five greeted him and went up the stairs. We’d not been coached how to act as we’d been at Sandy’s. Instead we were to ad lib.

***********

The story so far:

Jerry, an 18 year old nerdy college Freshman, is flabbergasted when a gorgeous blonde seeks him out. To his amazement, he is invited to compete against several other boys for the privilege of serving the sexual and other needs of a sorority of dominant beauties. He prepares himself to get an edge and endures ordeals in parts 1 and 2.

I apply to the Sorority Auxiliary, Part 1
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=7388

I apply to the Sorority Auxiliary, Part 2
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=7389

The ordeals continue into Saturday. Later, he and two other successful candidates begin training in both sexual and non-sexual service to the ladies. Will these nerds lose their virginity? Saturday is covered in parts 3A and 3B.

Initiation to Sorority Auxiliary, Part 3A: Saturday
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=7576

Initiatoin to Sorority Auxiliary, Part 3B: Saturday
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=7577

A rigorous training day goes into Sunday evening, when there is an initiation ceremony, complete with a faculty advisor.
Sorority Auxiliary, Part 4A: Marci
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic ... 66#p102366

Sorority Auxiliary, Part 4B: Veronica
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic ... 64#p102364

Sorority Auxiliary, Part 4C: Samantha
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=7874

Jenny's first day of service and more are described in
Sorority Auxiliary, Part 5: My Service Begins
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=9579

Sorority Auxiliary, Part 6: True Service is Hard
Jenny is further challenged to learn more about being a sexual servant and plaything.
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=9621.

Sorority Auxiliary 7: First Failure
Jenny tries hard, but fails to meet a challenge. Was he set up?
http://www.milovana.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=9727

The rest of this chapter had to be broken off. If I'm unable to put the link here, search for "Sorority Halloween, Ch. 8, pt 2