Chapter 2
At about the same time Elaine Horton was miserably assuming the pose for paddling, at the other end of the hall and in one of the luxurious rooms of the sorority house, a similar scene was taking place.
The room was occupied by Trude Jordan, the secretary of Delta Gamma Phi. Trude was a junior, twenty, and her flaxen hair was coiffed in a very thick coronet braid which made a circle around the top of her haughty head. She wore thick horn-rimmed glasses, she was slightly on the plump side-though her figure was excitingly opulent and certainly not at all obese-and she was a confirmed and passionate devotee of the cult of Sappho.
Although Madge Trenton and Beverly Wilson, the two leading officers of this exotic sorority on the Northeastern campus, had laid down the rule that until "Hell Week," no freshman pledge should be brought into any personalized or emotionally involved relationship with her "Big Sister," Trude Jordan had her own ideas on the subject. Originally from Minnesota, where her parents operated a chain of hi-fi shops, she was distinctly a "loner." Because her parents were wealthy and because she was their only child and they felt secretly sorry for her that she had turned out to be a plump tomboy, Trude Jordan burned inwardly for acceptance. By dint of her ready spending money on campus and her ability to stand the sorority sisters constant treats at their favorite sweet shop, she had wangled herself an invitation as a pledge just two years ago, when she had been a freshman. She had been rather vigorously hazed; her spacious, upstandingly rounded bottom had been an ideal target for the Delta Gamma Phi paddles, but she had endured going through the mill twice with remarkable stoicism. Madge Trenton had finally called a halt when it looked as if poor Trude's bare bottom was beginning to be blistered and when she was moaning and rocking back and forth on her knees, her teeth clutched and awaiting still another order to turn around and go back through that maze of sadistic beauties whose paddles yearned to sweep down and endlessly attack her swollen bare behind.
Her "Big Sister" had been Jane Tardiff, an intellectual snob and a senior at that time, with prissy manners, an upturned nose and small prim mouth, fluffy black curls and a willowy body that had been the secret bed-goal of every red-blooded male on campus. As it turned out, however, Jane was a decided Lesbian, and she had out of whimsy at first forced poor Trude to submit to her. Right after the initiation, the very next night, a Saturday, she had found some pretext to quarrel with her pledge and had told the girl to strip naked and assume the angle. Trude had stolidly proceeded to disrobe, and had slowly bent down and grasped her ankles, bravely jutting out her livid bottom. Jane had reluctantly admired the pledge's courage, but a sudden impulse had made her decide to enslave Trude Jordan and initiate the plump freshman into the mystic lore of Lesbian lust. She had therefore removed everything except her bra, garterbelt and hose, and, paddle in hand, had commanded in an arrogant tone, "Pledge Jordan, I've changed my mind. Get down on your hands and knees, crawl around and face me, and then do what I tell you to, or I'll give you triple swats!"
And when Trude Jordan had obeyed, she found herself confronted by the long tawny-sheened, flexing thighs of the supercilious senior and by the thick black curly muff of Jane Tardiff's voluptuous cunthole.
Jane had compelled Trude to gamahuch her, her hands grasping Jane's calves, her tongue and lips nimbly plying their amateurish but fervent devotion to the dainty, thin pink petals of her quim.
Trude had dedicated herself to this intimate and salacious task with a fervor which had amazed the insolent and perverse senior beauty. So diligently had she used her tongue and mouth that Jane had been shaken by the most violent come she had ever known. She forgot all about the paddle, and pantingly ordered Trude to her bed. That night was a revelation for them both. For Trude, knowing that perhaps boys might whistle at her but not really want to pursue any serious adventure because of her overly generous bosom and hips and thighs, found in Jane Tardiff's passionate and expert Sapphic embrace the fulfillment of all her pent up sexual needs.
So after Jane had left upon graduation, Trude had lost a mistress with whom she had fallen furiously in lust. But then as a sophomore, she discovered that she could take part in "Hell Week" ordeals and dish out punishment the same way she had had to take it. So that next time around, she chose a shy, bespectacled, golden-haired young pledge of sixteen, who had never so much as been kissed by a boy in high school, since the girl was precociously studious and had come to Northeastern with the praiseworthy ambition of getting her degree in four short years and then a teacher's certificate for a rural school.
Trude Jordan changed those plans somewhat. As "Big Sister" to pretty, bespectacled Nora Borley, she intimated that the pledge's initiation could be a really torturing affair if Nora did not show herself particularly obedient and docile. Nora, for her part, was horrified to discover that she was going to have to strip and expose her most intimate parts to her sorority sisters and, worst of all, endure a solid thrashing with the paddles as she crawled through their legs on initiation night. And so the inevitable happened; the shy, extremely virginal young blonde begged Trude to steer her through the initiation with a minimum of pain, and in return for which Nora blushingly went to her "Big Sister's" bed and became as ardent a Lesbian as Trude herself. If truth be known, at the time this story opens, the charming young would-be teacher was presently employed as a substitute teacher in a rural school in Indiana, where she had already secretly formed a Sapphic liaison with a charming fourteen-year-old girl whom she had had to keep late after class and spank for naughtiness....
Trude Jordan had been elected secretary at the close of last semester because she had spent a good deal of money on the house as a gesture of goodwill, a gesture which was of course opportunistic. She had already chosen her pledge and she was the "Big Sister" of Lucy Daniels. It was Lucy who, at this moment, was about to discover that her initiation was going to take place somewhat in advance of "Hell Week."
Lucy Daniels had just turned seventeen, was auburn-haired, slim, rather shy and inclined to blush a good deal. She had that enchanting complexion so typical of redheads, pale white with rosy flecks; and though her figure was slender and graceful, she possessed a magnificent, broadly oval posterior which Trude Jordan coveted.
Lucy had been assigned the task this late afternoon of shining all of Trude Jordan's shoes. To do so, she had given up a longed-for hike in the woods just to the north of the campus with a fascinating new boyfriend, Jack Sturtevant, who had already taken her girlish heart by storm when he had stood in line during Registration Day and struck up a conversation with her. They discovered they were both from the same little town, though they had never previously met. And Jack had asked her if she would like to go for a walk and of course Lucy had said yes, her virginal heart thudding wildly because he was an extremely good-looking boy, with black hair and sideburns and the most devilish eyes she'd ever seen.
What worried Lucy Daniels was that she wouldn't be able to get word to Jack about her not being there for the hike, because she had hurried back to the house right after the last class to shine Trade's shoes and done a very lick-and-a-promise kind of a job on them. And then when Trade had rebuked her and told her to do them all over again and in her presence, Lucy had stamped her pretty foot and burst into tears.
Rebellion like that inevitably called for punishment, and Trude was gloating with anticipation. She fairly itched to get Lucy peeled down to the buff and to force the pretty pledge to service her in all those amorous ways which a dominant Lesbian loves to have a meeker and milder girl provide. Besides, in the setup at Delta Gamma Phi, a pledge had to act as a virtual slave to her "Big Sister" until right after initiation night. There would be quite a few nights left before that time came, Trude Jordan told herself, and she meant to make the most of them with Lucy Daniels.
As she stood in the center of her living room, paddle in hand, wearing white linen play shorts and a tight pullover blue woolen sweater, her bare feet incased in sandals, Trade Jordan was studying Lucy's bent-over figure, which was really breathtaking. Lucy Daniels was five feet six, and she wore a knee-length cotton print, chaste light nylon slip, and very gauzy white panties and matching bra, with a dainty pink satin-elastic garterbelt tucked under the waistband of the panties and conveying narrow tabs to her flesh-colored nylon hose. At the moment, her skirt and slip rolled well above her waist, she was bending over and holding her ankles, her cheeks scarlet with shame, and the muscles of her delightfully ample buttocks (tightly thrusting out against the wispy panties in a way that made them seem even more naked than naked) were quivering and flinching in dire apprehension of what was to follow.
There were to be ten swats, Trude had informed the girl. Five over the panties, and five on the bare. Moreover, after the first five, Lucy was to turn around, kneel down, kiss the paddle and then the hand that had wielded it. Next, thank her "Big Sister" and then humbly beg for the remaining five. After that, she was to remove her own panties completely, and assume the angle once more, but this time her skirt and slip would be entirely removed along with the panties. Trude Jordan had purposely thought up that ritual in order to have Lucy's deliciously lithe virginal body practically naked at her disposal; experience had shown her that it was always easier to lead a pledge to bed when the latter had been well paddled and summarily unclothed.
Brandishing her oval-shaped paddle with both hands tightly clutching the taped handle, Trude Jordan avidly contemplated the upturned, quivering behind of her intended Sapphic convert. Lucy's pantie-briefs scarcely covered the delightfully curving base of her ample bottom cheeks, and a considerable portion of pale, rosy-flecked skin was titillatingly exposed to the plump junior's fixed gaze. "Count them off, pledge," she hissed and drew the paddle back. Lucy Daniels tightened her grip on her ankles and ground her teeth together, her body shivering in that imminent aura of pain to come.
"Smackkkkk!" The first stroke bit noisily across both huddling bottom summits. Lucy Daniels uttered a wail of distress, straightened up and grabbed for her bottom, turning round to stare ruefully at her tormentress.
"Who told you to leave position, Daniels?" Trude at once angrily reprimanded the unfortunate young victim. "We'll start all over again. You have to count each swat out loud and clear, or I'll just keep giving them to you until you do. Now get back down there! And your dress and slip came loose a little, so pick them up so they don't fall down and protect that big behind of yours! On the double, frosh!"
With a doleful sigh, Lucy Daniels obeyed. She drew a deep shuddering breath and took a firmer hold of her ankles as she waited, the first burning, throbbing anguish of the paddle already atrociously painful to her tender virgin flesh. Hardly had she got herself settled when the paddle swooped down again, this time colliding noisily with her left upper bottomsummit, flattening the resilient flesh and drawing another, even louder cry, "Oww! One! Oh golly, Trude, please, not so hard!"
"What did you call me?" Trude grimly demanded as she lowered the paddle and stepped a little closer to the trembling girl. "Don't you know you're suppose to call me Madame Secretary? That's what I am at Delta Gamma Phi, and don't you ever forget it. Just for that, we're going to start all over again. Five over the pants, five on the bare butt. Now get back down there."
"Oh please, it's too much, please! I-I've never been sp-sp-spanked before, M-Madame Secretary, and it hurts awfully!"
"It's meant to, frosh," Trude Jordan jeered. "Maybe I ought to make it ten instead of five if you keep wasting my time this way."
"Oh no, oh please don't! I'll try to bear it, truly I will, M-M-Madame S-Secretary!" Lucy Daniels blurted.
Trude waited while Lucy Daniels uncomfortably resumed the humiliating, self-offered pose, and then kept the lovely young auburn-haired victim in mounting suspense by lifting her paddle high above the upturned bottom and suspending the implement in the air. At last the girl frantically looked back round, her eyes big as saucers, her lower lip trembling, and Trude grinned coolly. She reveled in this kind of sadistic torment. "Stay in position, now," she admonished, and then brought the paddle viciously down to flatten Lucy's upper right bottom cheek. The noisy "Thwackkk!!" of the paddle was instantly echoed by a shrill "Owwohhh, two, oh, Lordie, you're killing me!" As Lucy's hips swerved violently this way and that, her knees bent, and her eyes began to blur with tears.
"Maybe next time," the plump secretary of the sorority declared, "you'll think twice before trying to do a half-ass job when I give you an order, frosh. And you're going to stay in and shine those shoes until you can see your own snivelling face in them, get me? Now get that big hind end of yours ready for more swats. Three to go, and then five good whammers on the bare tail, don't forget!"
"Oh, dear! Oh please, I-aahhrrr! Owww! Three! Ohh, you're just killing me, you're just killing me!" Lucy's tremulous rejoinder was suddenly interrupted as the paddle landed squarely across both globes at their lower summits, almost propelling her forward and making her lose her balance. With a violent effort, she remained bent over as she was, her body shuddering and her thighs rubbing frantically together. Through the victim's thin, gauzy panties, Trude Jordan's gray-green eyes could see the vivid, bright splotches left by the imprint of the oval-shaped punishment weapon. The sinuous crease between Lucy Daniels' bottom globes tightened, yawned, contracted again as spasmodic tremors visited the out-thrust, throbbingly hot posterior.
"I told you to keep your dress and slip rolled up good and high, didn't I? They're almost falling down again, so get with it, frosh!" Trude Jordan sadistically ordered. With a moan, the tearful young auburn-haired freshman straightened, not without wincing in so tragic-ludicrous a manner that even Trude had to smile, groped for her uptrussed garments and feverishly rolled them up into a tighter wad than ever, then bent down again and grasped her ankles.
Trude slowly extended the paddle in her right hand and pressed it meaningfully across the base of both huddling nether globes. Lucy caught her breath and it was audible, deepening the cruel, sensual smile of the plump sorority secretary. Once again she kept her victim in dire suspense by keeping the paddle pressed against the quivering, flinching flesh, and then at last slowly drew it back, poised it again a moment before stepping forward and swinging it horizontally against the very spot she had singled out for punitive assault.
"Eeeyeowwwouuuuu!!! Four! Oh my Lordie, oh please let up, oh I'm burning up, I just can't stand it, Madame-Madame S-Secretary!" Lucy Daniels sobbed. Again she grabbed for her bottom and tried to massage it, while the sadistic Lesbian blonde savoringly relished her victim's misery before at last, in a harsh voice, commanding, "Nobody gave you permission to cover up, frosh! I've got half a notion to start all over again with one."
"Oh no, oh please don't do that, oh you don't know how awfully it hurts!" poor Lucy wailed, at once drawing her hands away and this time grasping her knees as she remained bent over in that lasciviously servile pose.
"Try it again and we really will go back to one," Trude warned as again she extended the paddle and patted the upper right bottom cheek of the victim to warn her that that was where the next stroke was going to be administered.
And once again, as before, she stretched out the fateful moment, till poor Lucy Daniels broke down and began to sniffle and to beg for mercy. In the midst of it, the paddle swiftly rose and fell, and a harrowing scream was torn from the auburn-haired freshman. "Aiiii! Ohh, oh please, oh let me off now, you're just killing me, I can't stand it anymore, truly I can't, Madame Secretary! Oh please won't you spare me the rest, I just know I'll never be able to stand up!"
Trude Jordan lowered the paddle and once again studied the intoxicating spectacle before her. Lucy's deliciously ample bottom globes, furiously reddened and quite visible in that martyrized condition through the thin panties, was executing a most salacious squirming as if the intolerable heat had broken through her self-control, which indeed it had. Tears ran down Lucy's cheeks, and her hands moved frantically from her ankles to her knees and back to her ankles again, as she piteously looked round and tried to entreat her tormentress to spare her.
"I'll take your panties down myself, Daniels," Trude decreed. "You're going to get six, because you forgot to count that last fifth swat."
"Oh noooo!! Oh please, not so many, oh this is awful!" Lucy wailed.
Stepping forward, the plump secretary of Delta Gamma Phi, tucking her paddle under her left arm, inserted her fingers in the waistband of the nylon briefs and yanked them down to the girl's knee hollows. It was her turn to suck in her breath as her eyes feasted on that magnificent, springy-fleshed naked bottom, whose pale rosy-flecked sheen had been dispersed in favor of the darkening imprints of the punishment paddle. By contrast, that lovely, velvety sheen was vividly visible along Lucy's upper thighs and lower back. And, still bent over her waist, she exposed unwittingly the soft pink lips of her virgin cunt framed by surprisingly thick curls of dark auburn pussy-hair.
"Six," Trude mercilessly repeated, "and you'll count them out just like you did the others. But the way you're yowling, frosh, I better gag you first. You just stay right there and open your mouth real wide!"
Sobbing heartrendingly, Lucy Daniels obeyed. Trude gave her a sly glance, then walked over to her mahogany dresser, tugged open the bottom drawer and took out a pair of pink nylon panties. They were a week old and had not been laundered. Moreover, they had been moistened with her own urine, for the week before she had had a slight accident and been unable to get them down in time to make the toilet.
Wadding these into a ball, she moved round in front of the bent-over freshman, squatted down and proffered the ingeniously improvised gag to poor Lucy's gaping mouth. "Take it all in, frosh," she directed," and don't you dare spit them out. That'll keep your yowls down to room volume. Think I want everybody to know that I'm the Big Sister of the worst crybaby on campus? All right now. Get that big tail of yours ready for six of the best!"
Already, she was feeling a twitching between her legs as she moved back behind the sobbing helpless freshman. Under her skirt and sweater she wore only a bra and panties, her legs bare and obscenely white. Her plump calves and thighs were really voluptuously formed, and if she had managed to lose some twenty pounds, she would really have had one of the most voluptuous bodies in the entire sorority house.
She sniggered as she saw Lucy's naked bottom cheeks tighten instinctively, knowing that the girl was attempting in the most ingenuous way to put up a defense against the harassment of the spanking paddle, since the girl's resistance was already lessened by the obviously painful preliminary ordeal which poor Lucy had had to undergo. Pressing the paddle firmly against both quivering bare rotundities over their ripest curves, she announced, "Six, and count 'em so I can hear you, even through that gag!"
What she asked, of course, was virtually impossible and she knew it. It would serve as further pretext to coerce the enticing young virginal freshman into the depraved capitulation of a body which the sadistic Lesbian now lusted for with the most furious and avid desire.
She drew back the paddle, held it suspended for a moment, and then applied a particularly vicious swat, stepping forward and giving the implement added impetus as it wickedly cracked over the shuddering, naked, discolored flesh of Lucy's bare behind.
"Ahgggggmfffffagghhhh!!" the prolonged, agonized wail was muffled, incoherent. But Lucy's body twisted and jerked as if she were a puppet pulled by invisible strings, her knees bending, then clashing together, one thigh rubbing against its sweet sister, while a long violent rippling shudder visited her calves and thighs and made the cheeks of her furiously inflamed naked seat twitch and contract in the most spectacular way.
"I'm sorry I didn't hear that first count, pledge. We'll have to start all over again," Trude heartlessly announced.
It was too much. Lucy Daniels grabbed at her mouth with both hands, tore out the gag, and then flung herself down on her knees before her heartless tormentress, hands clasped, tears streaming down her cheeks: "Oh don't! I'll do anything you want, anything! Please don't hit me again, you don't know how it hurts me! I just can't stand it anymore, Madame Secretary, oh please, please have mercy!"
"How dare you leave position and take that gag out? I ought to give you twenty-five, and call all the girls in to watch you get it," Trude Jordan hissed. But her eyes had narrowed and her lips were moist and quivering as she pursued, in a gender tone this time, one that was insinuating and confidential: "However, what you just said might just save that big tender heinie of yours. What is this you said about doing anything if I wouldn't swat you anymore?"
"Oh I mean it! Anything at all! I'll shine your shoes so good-you'll see, oh please, Madame Secretary! Please don't hit me anymore with that paddle. I'd just die!" Lucy clasped her hands and rocked back and forth on her knees in the most abject supplication imaginable.
"Hmm," Trude Jordan purred. She lifted the paddle in the air and made a few imaginary swishes with it, grinning as she watched the tearful freshman squirm and gasp in apprehension. "So you'll really do anything if I let you off the six?"
"Oh yes, anything, Madame Secretary!"
"We'll just see about that. But understand this, Lucy, if you go back on your word, you get not six but twelve, and I'll put you on report to the sorority. Then Madge Trenton will call you up in front of all the girls and we'll have a trial and if you're found guilty, you can kiss that big heinie of yours good-bye forever, understand?"
Lucy Daniels, mute with terror, could only nod, her eyes hypnotically fixed on the vicious, swinging implement which had already dealt her tender behind such burning anguish.
"All right then. Stand up and take off everything you've got except your garter belt and stockings."
Lucy hastened to obey, not knowing what her tormentress intended of her, thinking only that by feverish compliance with the order, she might save her inflamed, burning posterior any more of that awful paddle misery.
Her auburn hair was styled in a pretty pageboy, with the ends turned under, and it fell caressingly about her dimpled shoulders. She was altogether an extremely tasty morsel, and Trude Jordan licked her lips as a fox does when it comes upon a chicken yard. Like those chickens, her prey was absolutely helpless. For Delta Gamma Phi maintained the most autocratic and rigid ritualism of all the sorority and fraternity houses on campus; the word of an officer was always taken over that of a pledge, and never once had a pledge appearing before the tribunal of her peers been found not guilty. To demand a hearing, as some rather foolhardy pledges had tried in years past, invariably brought additional punishment.
"All right now," Trade's voice was strangely tender and husky. "Get down on your knees again and crawl over to me. Then you can take off my skirt."
Lucy Daniels quickly obeyed. She looked up, wonderingly into Trade's flushed, cruelly grinning face.
"That's fine. Now my panties. Take them off nice and neatly now, and don't tear them, or this paddle will tear the skin off your hind end but good!" she warned.
Unhesitatingly, the auburn-haired freshman obeyed. She revealed the deeply dimpled, round belly of her tormentress with its narrow deep navel, the prominent, plump mound of Venus with dark blonde curls almost hiding the lips of Trade's snatch, and the secretary's plump but beautifully proportioned thighs. Naked now except for sandals, bra and sweater, Trude Jordan straddled her legs obscenely and, still gripping the paddle in her right hand and tapping its applicator into her left palm, hissed, "Now put your hands round and grab hold of my bottom and start gamming me, frosh!"
"G-g-gamming y-you? I-I don't understand-" Lucy faltered.
"Don't tell me you're a real cherry! Haven't you even got a boyfriend, Lucy?"
Lucy's face flamed and she lowered her eyes. Trade's smile deepened in its warped sadistic curve. "I see. Only you two have probably been talking about Plato and civil rights instead of making out, I'll bet. So you don't know what gamming it, huh? Well, you just do what I tell you to, or you know what else you'll get. Now put your hands against my butt and hold on tight!"
Her voice rose angrily, and Lucy Daniels, with a frantic little cry, hastened to do as bidden.
"That's right. Now just put your mouth up against my pussy and start licking and sucking and kissing it. I want to feel your little tongue going on in, too, get me?"
"Ohhhhh nooooo!!" Lucy breathed, absolutely consternated, as she lifted her tear-brimming eyes to her cruel tormentress.
"What do you mean, no? No pledge ever tells a Big Sister no. I think I'll make it twenty-four swats. Then I'm gonna call for a meeting of all the sisters, and we're going to blackball you, you prissy little bitch. You'll get kicked out all right, but before you do, you'll go through the mill. You know what going through the mill means? You crawl on all fours, bare-butt naked, and we land on your ass with paddles. And we'll make you go through four or five times just to be sure you never forget what a poopout you were."
Lucy was conquered. Her abject terror showed plainly in her dialated eyes, her trembling chin. Her face turned scarlet as, closing her eyes, her trembling hands pressing feverishly against the plump rounds of Trude Jordan's naked behind, she compelled herself to perform the odious task demanded of her by the sadistic Lesbian sorority secretary.
Trude moaned with delight, tilting back her head and half-closing her eyes, as she felt that virginally amateur, sweet, trembling mouth press against the lips of her twitching cunthole. In a raucous, passion-throbbing voice she gave the girl explicit instructions. Whimpering, overwhelmed with shame and odium, poor Lucy Daniels nonetheless had to conform. And suddenly Trude grasped the girl's hair, twisting her fingers into it and yanking it as with a sobbing cry she gave down her Sapphic love-gush.
Then, almost contemptuously, she pushed the girl away and sneered, "You got lots to learn. But I'll teach you, don't you worry, Lucy. By the time you get to initiation night, you're going to be the best gammer in the house. Now go wash your face; and then come back here at once. We're going to go to bed and I'm gonna start giving you lessons. And don't forget, I'll have my paddle right alongside me all the time!"