Note that this story is intended for mature audiences only and contains extremely graphic depictions of material that many audiences will find disturbing, including spanking and forced nudity. Nothing herein is intended to glorify or condone the horrific experiences which the protagonist endures, and the reader is strictly instructed not to take any prurient interest in this tale of violence and sexual exploitation.
Jessica had grown up her whole life hearing about Theta Theta Psi. Her mom had been in the sorority back when she was an Art History major at the University, and half the glasses in the family’s cupboard were etched with those two strange little o’s and the forky thing. The same Greek letters were on the throw pillows on the living room couch, and on the key chain dangling from their station wagon’s rearview mirror, and on the oversized yellow hoodie that Jessica used to snuggle up in all through junior high while reading her detective novels.
The times when Jessica remembered seeing her Mom most happy—the only times she remembered seeing her Mom truly happy after Jessica’s father left—were when she would return from a girl’s night out hanging out with her Theta friends.
From a very young age, Jessica’s mom had made it known how much it would mean to her if her daughter was able to join the same sorority. For a time, it seemed to her mother like an impossible dream. Puberty found Jessica a shy, passive girl. Not Theta material. She had friends, but was not popular. She chose volleyball and cross-country over cheerleading. To her mother’s chagrin, she spent the night of her 8th grade dance alone in her room reading Agatha Christie.
Yet, as school turned from middle to high, Jessica blossomed despite herself. Her skin cleared up, her long, blonde hair became less greasy and more wavy and lustrous, and her trim, athletic build was complemented by the arrival of more womanly characteristics. She developed her mother’s leggy figure, her fit runner’s thighs rising into a full, pert bottom, and her breasts expanded into perky, round D-cups which seemed even larger than they were against the canvas of her comparatively slim frame. Though envied by many of the other girls at school, the size of her breasts was a source of anxiety for Jessica. They made sports difficult, bobbing up and down as she ran around the track and squeezing together awkwardly as she straightened her arms for a bump on the volleyball court. Worse, her ample bosom (as her mother’s romance novels would have put it) and her body more generally attracted attention from boys that Jessica did not always welcome.
It was for this reason as much as any other that she had begun dating Derek late in her Junior year. Derek was an all-district running back, and when he was around no one dared flirt with her, much less make the crass comments that every so often she’d be allowed to overhear (Once, she had opened her locker to find an anonymous note stuffed inside. “How much to fuck those tits?” was all it said). And Derek was also a nice guy. He hardly ever pressured her to go further physically than she was comfortable, and it wasn’t until shortly before graduation that she’d finally decided to have sex with him, allowing him to unbutton her jeans and slide them down her legs as she lay on her back on top of the pale blue comforter of her childhood bedroom. Losing her virginity turned out to be quick (Derek’s stamina was apparently confined to the football field) and less painful than she’d imagined, and she was happy to have gotten it out of the way before she left for the University in the fall. When they broke up three months later, though, Jessica wasn’t heartbroken.
Her mother, of course, was overjoyed that Jessica would be attending her alma mater, and there had been no question about what which sorority’s events Jessica should attend when Rush Week had rolled around. “Being a legacy is very important to getting a bid in Theta Theta Psi, but it’s not the only thing,” her mother had told her during a phone call after Jessica’s first week of classes. “This is the most selective sorority on campus. You have to show them that you have the Theta spirit. Get out and impress those girls, Jess!” Jessica’s mom still worried that the other girls would find Jessica too quiet and introverted to invite into the sorority. Jessica’s beauty was undeniable, but this could work both ways in the ruthless female politics of the Greek system. If her daughter was rejected, how could she show her face at Theta Theta Psi reunions? This pressure, in turn, had affected Jessica, who had made every effort attend all the Theta rush events, putting her best face forward at every one and paying an unusual amount of attention to appearance.
So when Jessica received the square pink envelope in her campus mailbox that meant a Theta bid, she was relieved and excited. She immediately called her mom, who was predictably ecstatic.
“Oh, I’m so proud of you, honey. I hope you realize what a huge honor this is. Now, you just need to make it through pledge week and the initiation and then you’ll be part of the Theta Theta Psi family for life! You don’t know how amazing it is, to know you have so many sisters you can always count on.”
Jessica basked in her mother’s approval, but she felt a momentary queasiness at the mention of “initiation.” She had heard oblique references to how the sorority initiated its pledges, passed amid smirking looks by the older sisters during Theta events and circulated through her Freshman dorm as third-hand rumor. She asked her mother what the initiation involved.
“Oh, Sweetheart, you know I can’t tell you! The sisterhood’s secrets are never spoken of with outsiders, and you’re not a Theta yet. I’m sure the rituals have changed since my day anyway. Just do everything you’re told and don’t make a big fuss. Remember all your sisters have been through the same thing. It’s part of the bond you share.”
“Officium Obsequium Obtemperatio. That is our sisterhood’s motto. Remember it. You will be tested.”
Pledge week began with a formal dinner in the enormous dining hall of the sorority house. Jessica was seated next to the other eight pledges who had received bids that semester. Presiding over the occasion was Theta Theta Psi’s President Eliza Hernandez and its Treasurer Shannon Fletcher, both seniors. Jessica was frightened by Shannon, who, with her straight black hair and haughty scowl, looked and acted just a little bit like an evil queen from a Disney movie. What’s more, Shannon seemed to have taken a dislike to Jessica during Rush Week, making snide, belittling remarks whenever Jessica dared to speak.
After dinner, Eliza had addressed the group. Her speech had begun by telling the pledges, much as Jessica’s mother had, what an honor it was to be selected for Theta Theta Psi. She had given a history of the sorority and extolled the virtues of lifelong sisterhood. She had then moved on to explaining what to expect during pledge week, how they would all leave for the sorority’s cabin in Mt. Greenwood on Friday, where the final initiation ceremony would take place.
In the meantime, though, Eliza made clear that the new girls’ hazing would begin immediately.
“Officium Obsequium Obtemperatio. Does anyone know what that means?” she asked.
The pledge sitting two seats down spoke up hesitantly: “Um, like Duty . . . Servility? Submission?”
“I see we’ve got a budding Classics major in our midst, Sisters, but not quite. What does our motto mean, Ladies?”
“Dedication. Obedience. Discipline,” the entire room seemed to chant out in unison.
The pledge pursed her lips as if she might quibble with this translation but said nothing.
“Remember those words,” Eliza continued, “When you walk out of here tonight, you will officially be Theta Theta Psi pledges. If you prove yourselves worthy, by this time next week you be welcomed into the sisterhood. But for the time being, you are nothing. I want you to look around at your fellow Rushies. In all likelihood one or two of you will not have what it takes to join us. For the next week, we’ll be watching you and testing you. You belong to us.”
“You’re our slaaaaves…” hissed one of the older girls in a tone of mock spookiness. It was a chubby, brassy girl named Michelle that Jessica recognized from several of the Rush Week functions. Several of the pledges giggled nervously.
“Sister, please pass out the paddles,” Eliza said.
Shannon reached into a cardboard box behind the podium and pulled out an armful of wooden objects. Walking around to the far side of the table, she deposited one in front of each of the new girls. Jessica’s paddle hit the table in front of her with a loud CLACK!, and Jessica leaned forward to examine it.
It was identical to the Theta Theta Psi paddle she had always seen by her mother’s bedside growing up. It was short as sorority paddles went, no more than about two-and-a-half feet in length, more ping pong paddle than boat paddle really, but made from thick, solid wood and with a sturdy, rounded handle. Jessica felt a mix of confusing emotions looking at it. On the one hand, she was proud to be given this tangible symbol of her belonging, one that connected her not only to her future sisters but also through tradition to her mother.
On the other hand, as she looked at the paddle, thoughts came to her that had never occurred looking at the similar object by her mother’s bedside. What was the paddle used for? Was it just symbolism, tradition? Or were they actually going to use that on her as part of the initiation? Jessica had seen enough movies to know what that might involve. Would she really be spanked with that paddle? Would she be forced to bend over in front of everybody while one of these other girls smacked her in the ass with it? How far would it go? Would they do it hard? Would she be blindfolded? Would they—the thought sent the butterflies in Jessica’s stomach swirling—Would they make her take her clothes off? Stand there naked in front of them while they spanked her bare bottom with this paddle?
To quiet her nerves, Jessica tried to focus on the craftsmanship of the paddle. On one side was carved the sorority’s Greek letters, lacquered in crimson. Gingerly, she reached out and turned it over. On the other side, was carved her name: Jessica Johnston. Between the two words was a heart.
Suddenly a hand reached out and slapped the paddle back down onto the table with another resounding CLACK!
“Did we tell you you could touch it, Pledgie?” Shannon peered down sneeringly at her. “You bitches better learn some respect if you’re gonna survive Hell Week.”
“These paddles all have your names on them . . .” Eliza said from her podium.
“I definitely got a paddle with your name on it,” one of the girls cracked, making an exaggerated batting motion accompanied by a “Whizzzz. . . Smack!” sound effect that made a few of the other girls chuckle.
“These paddles all have your names on them,” Eliza continued, ignoring the interruption, “but they are not yours. Not yet. We will be keeping custody of these paddles until after the initiation ceremony. Until that time, whoever holds this paddle, you are to obey unquestioningly. You will do whatever they say. Run their errands. Carry their books. Mop their floors . . .”
“Clean my toilet!” one of the girls yelled out.
“Massage my feet!” shouted Michelle.
“Jam things in your cunt for my entertainment!” chimed in Shannon.
Many of the girls laughed. Eliza looked at Shannon disapprovingly at first, but after a moment even she shook her head and smiled at the Treasurer’s outrageousness.
Jessica took a deep breath and looked at symbols etched on her paddle’s face, making a silent promise to herself to stick things out no matter what.