We Rule the School Ch. 04

Katie Greenwood couldn't decide if she was looking forward to a confrontation or dreading a meeting with her ex. Last Halloween, Simon, the guy she thought was the perfect boyfriend, had more or less blackmailed her into a public, humiliating anal sex experience. She still wondered why she had gone along with the whole scheme. Simon's blackmail was based on a video made while we she was under the influence of what thought was ecstasy. He had even forced her to watch some of it—the image of her own face, plastered with cum and hungrily begging for more cock was seared into her memory. She couldn't have that file getting out, where it could destroy her life even more. Moreover, Simon had used his connections to secure her a plum internship. Even after his humiliation of her, he had kept up his end of the bargain. All of her dreams were going to come true—she just needed to avoid Simon forever and get on with her life.

So why am I meeting that bastard, then? It wasn't the way she planned to spend a Saturday morning. The grey sky filtered through a thicket of dead trees as she walked towards the coffee shop inside the student union building. Simon had not attempted to contact her in almost five months. And now, just after Spring Break, he sent her a text message arranging a meeting. In fact, he ordered it; there was no asking. Katie knew exactly why he was looking for her now, though. The Daily Eagle, Armstrong College's student paper, had reported on the front page the investigation into allegations of hazing at Alpha Delta house.

The investigation into AD was all anyone was talking about. The most powerful house on campus was on the verge of losing its recognition and national charter. What the public didn't know was that any investigation worth a shit would reveal much more than just hazing. Katie knew a lot about the ADs now, enough to know that the hazing charges were ironically enough false. Though innocent of hazing pledges, the Alpha Deltas were in fact guilty of much worse—felony drug trafficking and rape, for starters.

Simon was sitting alone at a large table for four. Katie could tell he hadn't seen her when she entered, and she lingered a bit around the corner, watching his movements. Simon had a way of sitting perfectly still, as if his heart didn't beat. Yet his head always seemed to be moving, drinking in the surrounding, sizing people up, looking for something. Today, it was probably her. Steeling herself for an unpleasant conversation, she walked as confidently as she could over to Simon's table and sat down.

"I know why I'm here asshole. Don't try to act cute."

"Good," he replied. "I'm glad we don't have to bother with small talk. They're going to come to talk to you, ask you about what you saw in the AD house. You don't have to lie, not really. Tell them you didn't see any hazing of brothers. That's it."

Simon didn't need to threaten Katie; she could hear it lingering behind his words. In fact, she didn't plan to get herself wrapped up in the investigation anyway. She was afraid of Simon and mostly wanted him out of her life. Yet getting him out of her mind had proven almost impossible. In fact, the worst part of it all was the good memories of time spent with him. Those hurt more reliving the nightmare of Halloween. Out of all the days she spent with Simon, there were only a couple of bad ones, but they weighed so heavily that all of the good should have been cancelled out. Why can't I just forget about him?

"Look, I didn't come here to be threatened. I'll stay quiet but you have to answer my questions first."

"OK, shoot. Anything you want," he replied nonchalantly.

"Anything? Well what I most want is to go back in time and never meet you," she replied venomously. "But I'll have to settle for answers. I don't want to hear your sick fucking reasons for picking me or for what you did. I just want to know how you got me to say that stuff. I don't think ecstasy can do that to people."

Simon paused briefly. Katie had a sudden, dispiriting thought. Simon is the best liar I've ever met. How can I trust anything he says?

"There's a new drug. You don't really need the details. It makes...situations like yours possible. But it's all gone now, and the new batches are a lot weaker. Disappointed the shit out of me. It was a...temporary product that I used to—"

"—rape girls?," Katie interjected.

"Well, technically, just you," Simon responded. "Everyone else took it voluntarily, actually. I lied to you about what it was, so I guess what happened before Halloween was pretty much rape. But Halloween itself?"

Simon paused to sip his coffee.

"That's on you. Search your memory for how it went down. The only thing I ever threatened was to take away your precious internship. I never said I'd post it on the internet, send it to your friends, mail a copy to grandma. So Halloween is on you—you gave your ass up so you could get ahead. And, you know what? It was the right call."

Katie felt sick. In her heart, she knew he was right. Part of her disgust for these past few months had been with herself.

"Don't talk to me like that. Remember that you're begging me not to turn you scumbags in."

"I'm not begging for anything," Simon replied. "I'm letting you know that I know what's happening, and that you won't be saying anything. That's not a threat, it's an observation. But you had more questions, right?"

Katie's blood was boiling. She had hoped to keep it together for this meeting. She didn't want Simon to see her upset, to let him know he was getting to her. She had spent five months locked away, throughout the cold winter, alternately thinking about this day and trying to stop herself from thinking about it.

"Fine. What have you done with the video? Who else has seen it?"

"Well, which video? You should know your Halloween performance—everyone's actually—was filmed, too."

Katie would have been even more disgusted and despondent, had she not already assumed as much. Simon had basically built those rooms in the sub-basement himself, and keeping records seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

"Both."

"Well, at first I watched them alone and jerked off."

Simon was shameless, completely unfazed by such talk. Katie still found herself capable of surprise.

"Then, recently, I've watched them with my girlfriend. It was such a big moment for me, so watching them always gets me really hard. She didn't like seeing them at first, but now she knows she's in for a good fuck when I put one of them on."

Katie was horrified to know someone else had seen the tapes, especially, for some reason, another girl. Another feeling, which surprised even her, crept into the back of her mind: jealousy.

"So what's the plan for this one? Rape her on the quad while the marching band plays? Does she know what you are?"

"Good idea, let me write that one down," Simon joked. "Unlike you, she knows exactly who—what—I am. She was there on Halloween, in fact. If you'd like, you could always come back to my place and watch one of her tapes."

Katie couldn't believe a girl could be with someone like Simon willingly. Not when she knew what he was capable of. Yet she couldn't help but wonder about the girl. Katie had fled from the house that night but saw and heard some eye-popping stuff. Simon let the fraternity gang-bang his girlfriend?, she wondered, before correcting herself. Future girlfriend. Katie wondered what his angle was—not only was Simon not really the boyfriend type, but also it was strange for him to pick a girl he had basically treated like a whore as a girlfriend.

"Who is she? Do I know her?"

"Maybe. April Nelson."

Katie knew April. April was the kind of girl who made Katie ashamed of her flat chest and bony ass. April was built for sex, a walking wet dream. Katie was a beanpole, cute, but no April Nelson. Katie, 100% heterosexual Katie, got flustered when a girl—woman—like April was present.

Katie hastily stood up, cheeks glowing crimson. She could feel herself start to sweat, just a little.

"I'm done with this. Don't talk to me again."

Simon called out to her, loud enough for other people to here.

"So—gonna come over for a movie later?"

Katie's mind flashed to one thought, one she had suppressed until that moment.

I'm going to make him pay.

***

Word around campus was that the Alpha Deltas were starting to go soft. Hannah Johansson knew better than that. She was surrounded by three ADs at the moment, and every last one of them was hard enough to cut diamonds. They were all meant for her.

She felt a little light-headed, buzzed from smoking pot with the brothers, Deacon, Will, and...the one whose name she could never remember. Am I, like, always stoned around him? His name didn't much matter to her, though—he always had good weed and didn't choke her too much whenever he crammed his cock down her throat.

Oh yeah, she thought, when the tall, pudgy Alpha started stripping her of her leopard-print bra and panties, the last remaining bits of clothing after stripping for each bong hit. He's called Sketch. She half-remembered a story about him having some kind of school-girl fetish or something that got him the nickname.

Hannah knelt on the dirty rug in the party basement. Her long, straight black hair hung down past her narrow shoulders as she looked up at the three frat guys towering over her. She was already petite, and her position on the floor made them seem enormous. Her dark, almond eyes were open wide and her mouth hung just a bit open, as she breathed heavily. Her slender, graceful body strained forward a bit, and her ribs were slightly visible as her stomach curved in. Chocolate brown nipples, now hardened into two little bullets and turned slightly upwards, crowned her pert breasts, which the brothers liked to think of as a perfect, handful size.

Not many Asian girls came around AD—unlike the Ivies, Armstrong was mostly lily-white rich kids, trust-funders not smart enough go to Princeton mixed with a smaller group of scholarship kids to keep the academic profile strong. Hannah was from the latter group. She had come to Armstrong on a full ride, but with none of the disposable income of the average Armstrong student to live the kind of lifestyle she wanted.

Sucking off Alpha Delta brothers had become just a normal part of her life now. It wouldn't have come as much of a shock to anyone who had grown up with Hannah back in Minnesota, though. Back home, she was one of the few Asians in her class. Her white parents had adopted her as a baby from Vietnam and raised her in a strict Christian home, against which she rebelled as soon as she could.

Hannah didn't want to follow her parents' religious moralism, but most of all she hated the stereotypes of nerdy, shy, submissive Asian girls. She partied as hard as possible for suburban Minneapolis. Although she was too scared to do anything really crazy—no needles, no serious felonies for her—she nevertheless managed to piss off her exasperated parents to no end. They always managed to hear from a concerned neighbor or fellow churchgoer about the latest boy she had been spotted making out with, or they would catch her stumbling home inebriated. They feared she was on the path to becoming a drunken slut. As it turned out, they were mostly right.

Now her juvenile rebellion took the form of getting high and sucking off frat brothers on a near-daily basis. Simon had "introduced" her at the Halloween party, after Javier had given her a taste of F, the "wonder" drug for turning co-eds into fuck dolls. She didn't need to be addicted—she loved the drug and the fucking, at least for the most part. She also couldn't complain about leeching off the frat's largesse: not just weed and F, but liquor and some times a bit of cash, too. As long as she could stay in control and get what she wanted, being passed around the frat like a cum rag was just part of the college experience in her view.

The three brothers tonight were no stranger, although she didn't have any particular connection to them, anymore than three dozen other guys who had shot their wads in or on her. She had become pretty notorious at the frat: a reliable suck and fuck who was always down for anything, to a point at least. Hannah thought of herself as "one of the gang," popular and well-liked. The guys thought of her a bit differently: some of them even considered double-bagging it, considering how much dick she had taken in the span of a few months. A few actually followed through and wore rubbers, at least for fucking her up the butt.

Anal: the one thing she didn't like about sex. The brothers absolutely loved to fuck girls in the ass, and Hannah had first fallen prey to their lust for sodomy on Halloween. During the massive orgy that broke out when Simon left, Hannah had taken a lot of dick in the ass—not that she could remember anything, though. Her sore, abused asshole let her know the next morning what had gone down. Since then, she had usually managed to minimize the anal violations by developing her cocksucking abilities. She now held a mastery of the oral arts. Guys with drained balls rarely went through the trouble of cajoling her into opening up the back door.

Naturally tonight, though, Deacon had already begun trying to jam his middle finger straight up her asshole. Her tight anus had become exposed once Sketch moved to take a seat on the ratty old sofa against the back wall and Hannah had to crane forward a bit to keep his dick in her mouth. That was enough to give Deacon a clear shot at cramming a beefy finger into her rectum, and he seized his opportunity with relish. She squirmed a bit, knowing eventually he would get it inside. Usually when she was in a group, she could avoid getting fucked in the ass by jerking off any guys standing around while she was sucking a dick. So long as they got some stimulation, most of the brothers weren't really too aggressive. At least not any more—things had started cool down after a pretty insane beginning to the year. What she could never avoid, though, was getting a finger or two jammed in her rear entrance.

"Don't you love how this slut acts like she don't want it?," Deacon asked his friends.

"Hey!," Hannah half-shouted at him, pulling the wet, spit-covered cock out of her mouth. "Do you want a finger in your ass?"

Deacon shrugged.

"Naah. But I don't want some dude's dirty schlong in my mouth either, and you fuckin' love it."

Deacon and the guys laughed a bit. Hannah flipped Deacon the bird and stuck her tongue out.

"I'd take that tongue in my butthole!," Will exclaimed.

Hannah heard one of the girls from before she was around, a skinny chick named Claire, was known for her rimming proficiency. Hannah had fortunately avoided that task. They had dropped the whole maids thing back in the fall. She was glad she never had to interrupt her fun to do some kind of bullshit cleaning job.

"Get back to sucking," Sketch demanded. "My nuts are fucking overflowing tonight."

Sketch was one of the few brothers who Hannah could honestly say struggled to get girls to go out with him. Consequently, he tended to blow the largest loads, since most of the brothers were cumming at least twice a day. Sketch once sold her an ounce of weed and told her she could pay him by wearing a face full of his cum and asking the Epsilon Sigma Thetas next door to borrow some flour. That little trick got her fucked by three guys at the neighboring house, with not a bit of flour to show for it.

"Damn, I got another girl to meet in, like, twenty minutes," Deacon complained. "I need to bust my nut quick."

"Fuck no, man," Sketch told him. "My weed means I get to cum first."

"I'll fuck her then," Deacon reasoned with him.

Hannah tried to pull out Sketch's cock, but he held her head firmly into his sweaty crotch. His below-average dick meant that Hannah could, with some effort, take him completely to the root. Needless to say, Sketch pretty much insisted on it, and with the right amount of force, he could cram his cock into her throat and bob her head with his hands until he got himself off. He buried her face into his wiry, saliva-dampened pubic hairs, tickling her nose and occasionally making her want to sneeze.

"Have at it then," Sketch proclaimed, not pausing a bit to ask Hannah about her opinion on the matter.

Fortunately, Hannah had a wealth of cock-sucking experience, even before becoming one of the Alpha Deltas' favorite sperm receptacles. First, one of her adoptive cousins had "taught" her as a teenager how to give a blowjob. He had acted liking he was doing her a big favor. When she pretty much devoured her first high school boyfriend's dick, he knew he had found the perfect girl. In addition, she had a pretty high tolerance for cum as well. She became a frat house favorite for never cum-dodging like so many of the skanks they brought in. While they casually called her "slut," Hannah figured that they basically liked her and treated her like she belonged.

"Gonna stretch that sphincter tonight, girl. That rectum needs some wreckin'."

Deacon always thought he was so funny, always had some dumb line to try to puff himself up. Hannah wanted to protest, but did nothing. She kept jerking off Will while Sketch skull-fucked her. Deacon, the fat, liquor-soaked son of a hedge fund manager, was pretty gross, and Sketch was wiry and unappealing. At least Will's cute, she thought. Sweet, too. Will had tousled hair, like a Kennedy, and a toothy, friendly smile. He played club lacrosse and was fit, unlike fatass and beanpole currently taking their turns on either end of her. Hannah's focus was on keeping her balance and bracing herself for the inevitable. She felt the tip of Deacon's cock (unfortunately for her, one of the girthier ones) pressed against her rosebud. This is gonna hurt.

While she hated and rebelled against stereotypes of Asians, at least two of them, in her case, were true. First, she was great in school, which was how she got a scholarship at a place like Armstrong. Second, her pussy was remarkably tight, and her asshole even tighter.

Deacon had learned to always use a copious amount of lube for anal sex. He had no desire to hurt her—he just wanted to shoot his wad deep inside her as soon as possible.

One of his favorite moves was to go out with a girl and let her start to go down on him without telling her that he had just fucked another girl in the ass. He could always tell which girls were keepers: the ones who soldiered on, cock in mouth, despite the rancid taste.

"Goddamn, slut," he bellowed, "your ass is like a furnace."

Deacon hadn't cum that morning, because the sorostitute he had fucked the night before was too nauseous and hung over to give him morning head.

"Hey, stop pulling her hair, dumbass. She's not finished polishing my knob," Sketch protested.

Hannah, unable to speak with her mouth full of cock, started to shift positions. Her knees burned a bit from the rug and her jaw was getting pretty tired. Hopefully Will would fuck her pussy so she could get a bit of a break. Fortunately, she could tell Sketch wouldn't last much longer.

"Don't cum on her face, man," Will asked, "I don't want your nasty jizz on my stomach."

"Don't...worry," Sketch replied, clearly approaching the point of no return, "this is all going down the hatch."

With that, Sketch clamped his hand on the back of Hannah's head tightly and blasted the back of her throat with the first thick shot of semen. She knew to swallow it as quickly as possible because it certainly wouldn't be the last. Sketch let her withdraw her cock a little bit so that she wouldn't puke. Thanks to using one hand on Will and one to balance herself because of Deacon's increasingly forceful anal pounding, Hannah didn't have a free hand to jerk off Sketch's cock like he liked. Nevertheless, he continued firing shots of cum into her mouth. She could feel his veiny member twitch violently against her tongue, as he filled her mouth with his rank, salty seed. This time she held it in.