The Sisterhood of the Smiling Penis

"I'm just curious. Are you a student here at the college?"

"Look, missy, let's just keep this on an impersonal, cash basis---okay?"

"I'm sorry; I should have guessed that anyone who wears a mask when he is working---and will only meet in the dark---probably wasn't interested in getting chatty."

"Just pay me up front per our previous agreement and give me the originals---not the copies---of the consent forms. Remember: no refunds for dropouts. You contract for four, only three go through with it, I get paid for four."

"Sure, here you go. We've never had a dropout since you started working for us."

"Seven of them this time? And you expect me to take care of all of them in one night?"

"I always assumed you took medicine or whatever."

"That's not the issue. And no, I don't take medicine. It's just damned hard---or to be more specific, difficult to keep it hard---to ensure you get your money's worth."

"Last semester you did four. If you don't take some sort of...performance enhancement drug, how do you...?"

"Keep it up? Evidently my body naturally produces not only an abundance of testosterone but also other substances not unlike those found in those little blue pills. Additionally I studied Eastern meditation techniques a few years ago. I had to, since an erection---at least in my situation---at an inopportune time could be very embarrassing. Four is not seven. Look, cut me some slack here. At least break it into two segments, maybe an early shift and a late shift separated by a couple of hours. You can do whatever else it is you do to them while I'm grabbing a bite to eat and catching a cat nap."

"Okay, we can do that. We'll start a little earlier, say seven, and then the second wave at eleven? You also seem to have an amazing level of stamina...you don't seem to..."

"Cum prematurely? While learning to control my erection I also seem to have learned to control my...ejaculation. I also eat healthy and work out."

"Your, ah, penis—I'm told---it's as if it is...smiling?"

"It's just a birthmark. Splitting them into two groups should work out just fine."

"You must enjoy your work."

"Yeah, that's what everyone assumes---and it does have its moments. It can also be a curse."

"Look, buddy, this sorority only pledges the most attractive girls in each freshmen class; usually four in each semester. And every year---twice a year---for the past three years you came here and had sex with them---and got paid for it---even for the ones that backed out. By the way...do you ever...ah...take on any private...ah, clients?"

"Let's get real here. You girls hire me because I've got a very big cock and exceptional...staying power."

"Really, really hard, too."

"Oh, don't tell me---of course! This is my fourth year, you're probable an officer, you're a senior...you were in the first pledge class I ever...did."

"Uh, huh...and from the comment cards you've...gotten even better."

"Maturity and experience, I suppose. Additionally I've spent a great deal of time studying female sexual response in order to improve the, ah...product. Look! I think this whole Greek society hazing thing is just a little weird. Still, who am I to judge? It's your life, I suppose. I'm just trying to make a living; thanks to the fact that you and a few of the other sorority houses think this shit is fun---it's a pretty good living. On the other hand, the idea of dating or whatever some girl with whom I had oral, vaginal and anal sex as part of some kinky pledge ritual---that would be even more weird. Sorry, I don't mix business and my personal life."

He'd delivered his little rant in his best Darth Vader voice; he'd learned to do voices in high school when he thought he might be an entertainer someday. Then again, he was an entertainer. Just not the kind he'd been thinking of.

"What a shame. Can't blame a girl for trying."

***

As he left the night deposit window at his bank, he thought back to his earlier conversation. Becky Hundsucker. He'd known who she was since the first time they had done it when she had pledged. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful girl on this or any other campus. Shit, he'd dreamt about her since his---and her---freshmen year. She been in the first group he'd ever "done." She had been one astoundingly nasty little freshman. If memory served him correctly, she'd taken him all the way down her throat and given him the best BJ he'd ever had.

Most of these pretty little bitches probably couldn't suck a regular size dick worth a shit---let alone his, which measured over nine inches. Well, he was being modest; it was just a hair under ten inches. He was pretty sure that half of them didn't even enjoy sex that much. He knew damn well that most of them were not pleased when he fucked 'em in the ass, but then they'd made the choice to join one of these fucked-up sororities.

He'd worn a mask since day one; over the last three years, so had the girls, which was just as good since he probably had a class with more than one of them and would have had a hard time not breaking out in laughter if he'd recognized one of them. It wasn't that big a college and seventy-nine percent female. All were from excellent bloodlines with very wealthy parents. And while he'd fucked the cream of the crop, he couldn't have gotten a date with one of them to save his soul---certainly not Becky Hundsucker.

He remembered well the demonstrations and taunts when he had first arrived on campus. The Board of Regents or whatever they were called had mandated the admission of a certain number of males in each class. His had been the first such class. Lots of parents, alumnae and students were furious. Virtually none of the rich bitches would even speak to him the first year. At least the faculty had taken pity on guys like him and had universally worked to ensure that they were fairly treated in the classroom. Why had he chosen this fucked up place?

Easy: money. He didn't have any, the administration was under tremendous pressure to demonstrate that they were actively seeking male admissions and the publicity and angry diatribes from the "women only" crowd had scared away most male applicants. Several guys who accepted their admissions letter received packages in the mail with selected, severed animal parts and little notes that would make any male uncomfortable. As more and more prospective freshmen men took a pass, the private university kept upping the ante to the remaining applicants. In the end, they were more than paying for all of his expenses to attend one of the top twenty academic institutions in the country---they were paying him more than twice the cost just to show up.

After the police got to the bottom of the small group of wacko, radical, fem-fascists who were carrying out the threat campaign, the silent treatment started. The bitches---or at last 99% of them---wouldn't speak to a male student---let alone go out with him. It had gotten a little better each year he had been there. At least now they'd speak to him for the most part but they still wouldn't go out on a date with any of the male students, preferring the predominantly male university fifty miles away.

They were a private school; why buck the alumnae? The single largest endowment source---without which they couldn't keep their doors open---mandated it. It was part of the will of an alumna with millions to be left to the school on one condition---they admit men. Rumor had it that the old bat blamed the college's policies for turning her into a lesbian and late in life decided that single sex schools were unhealthy.

Back to Becky Hundsucker. He was damn sure she had been the only one that first semester who started to salivate when she saw his cock. Too often over the years he'd have some poor crying little cunt who, in her heart wanted to back out but whose pride wouldn't let her. He'd always been kind to them, certainly never treated them rough and, on more than one occasion, pretended to cum so that they would believe that their "ordeal" was over.

Slightly less than half of them were damn nice little fucks who got into the whole thing in the spirit of sisterhood or whatever. Becky Hundsucker had been a different matter entirely. She had been a tiger. He'd never forget her. In the dim light when her mask had slipped he had recognized her. Evidently superior night vision was another physical benefit of his...condition.

He'd dated normal girls before and certainly ended up in the sack with them. He'd had more than one express shock at the length and girth of his organ and at least one back out, calling him a freak. That had stung. In point of fact, the majority of the pledges probably looked on him as little more than a circus freak. But not Becky Hundsucker. In addition to sucking him off for all he was worth, when it came to phase two she had brazenly grabbed his cock, centered her sweet blond muff over it and just ridden it all the way down to the root.

"It's about damn time! Now that's what I call a fucking cock!" she had intoned.

Looking back it was the best sex he'd ever had. Becky Hundsucker loved to fuck and was as talented at it as any woman North of the Equator, not to mention just fun in the sack. While all of the girls submitted to anal training by their big sisters, the anal part of the initiation could get a little dicey and on more than one occasion he'd cut it short---both in duration and depth---before the poor little thing passed out from fear. Not Becky Hundsucker.

He could take or leave anal sex---certainly leave it when it came to a woman who didn't really want to be getting poked in the butt. Becky Hundsucker absolutely loved it up the ass. She was certainly the only one who had taken the initiative and essentially fucked herself on his hard cock, whimpering and whispering, "oh, that's really nice" for the entire time---and it had been a very long time.

So why hadn't he taken her up on her offer for a "private client" encounter?

They were both seniors. They were in three classes together. They were lab partners in one and had drawn each other's names in a psych class that would involve each of them interviewing and evaluating the other. While Becky Hundsucker had made it clear over three years prior that she would never date a student at the college, she had at least not been rude about it. She'd taken an oath and that was that. What had he been thinking anyway; she was the heir to a fortune. He was the son of two lifelong schoolteachers---hardly landed gentry.

It has started out as just a Chippendale kind of thing. He'd been a jock in high school, had worked out for as long as he could remember and had a chiseled physique. The girls at the college had more money than sense. Hiring a stripper for a best friend's engagement or birthday was no big deal. He'd answered a want ad. Ultimately he'd run his own ad and for the first semester had all the business he could possibly handle. And then Becky Hundsucker's sorority had hired him as a stripper/dancer for some function and the former president had asked him if he'd 'do more than dance'. He'd had propositions of sorts before but this was different.

"I'll dance, I'll certainly be as provocative and touchy as you want---and get as naked as you want---but you're talking prostitution here." He still wasn't sure how she had talked him into it. Oh, that's right, total anonymity and $1,000 per pledge. They'd wanted to have it so they could watch. He'd drawn the line on that one. No witnesses except the participant and she signed a waver---and since she wasn't actually paying, it really wasn't illegal, he had rationalized.

While he would never remotely be as rich as Becky Hundsucker, he had a substantial nest egg as the final semester of his senior year began to wind down. He had more money in the bank than his folks made in five years---combined. His work money plus the excess paid by the college to get him to attend was all in interest bearing instruments and some modest real estate holdings. He'd graduate Summa. He already had some job inquiries.

He laughed again as he thought about Becky Hundsucker. He knew she was engaged to some prick at the exclusive men's university fifty miles away. He'd seen the two carrot rock on her finger. She came across in public as almost virginal. He swore he had heard her tell one of her girl friends in a class that Mr. Right wasn't going to get any until after the wedding---although they had enjoyed oral sex. Lucky guy. What a crock!

On returning to his apartment and checking his answering machine, there was a call from some corporate recruiter he had met a week earlier at a campus job fair. He sounded very anxious to speak to him, telling him to call on a private number at any hour. It wasn't that late. What the fuck.

"This is Mike Simmons. I'm returning Mr. Lander's call---he said call any time."

"Mike! Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. This is Fred Landers. Have you got a few minutes to chat?"

"Absolutely." Damn, it would be great to nail down a job sooner rather than later.

"Mike, we'd really like to get you up to company HQ to meet everyone. Those of us who interviewed you on campus were very impressed. You may recall that as part of the interview process we asked each applicant to propose a product idea, write a marketing plan and include a cost study. Sadly, a few folks decided it was just too much trouble. Most of the plans that were submitted were, in all honesty, sophomoric. Your plan was not remotely sophomoric. A lot of people want to talk to you about it."

"It is intellectual property, fully protected under this country's copyright laws. And the product idea is under patent."

"Absolutely! And I commend you for indicating those facts in your submission. Did you submit this to anyone else?"

"I submitted a couple of similar ones, but each company had its own specific product niche; the one I submitted to you would have been unique. Mr. Landers---Fred---I apologize. I don't have my notes where I can get to them quickly. Which company do you represent?"

"We are in essence an out-source company with a very select list of clients so we are essentially interviewing for several companies at any given time. Those companies don't like to come out of the shadows until they're prepared to schedule follow-up interviews on their turf. Hundsucker Industries is very excited about the prospect of meeting you."

"Do tell."

"How soon could we get you up there?"

"I have to work tonight and tomorrow night and I have a couple of jobs over the weekend. All of my classes meet Monday-Wednesday-Friday early. I could leave anytime after one on Monday and need to be back Tuesday night."

"I think we can make that work. We'll get airplane tickets and such overnight to you. I'd like to meet you at the airport and drive you up to their offices. I can give you some tips and advice on the way. How's that sound?"

"Great."

Small world. Hundsucker Industries. Becky Hundsucker. He knew that because he had seen their corporate logo on her gym bag.

Not completely trusting the clients, Mike performed all of his initiation duties at a small house several miles from campus just past the edge of town. Said house represented an investment: he owned it. It was not in a development or close to other houses. It had almost an acre of land. As growth had moved in that direction, the land had certainly appreciated if not the dated house. The lot was fenced and the long driveway was gated. You couldn't see the house from the road.

He'd rented it out numerous times for sorority parties. The rentals easily paid the mortgage. He'd even fixed it up and decorated it in sort of a Goth/S&M theme. The girls in the small sorority who were not in the pledge ritual would gather in the spacious great room which he had created by knocking out some walls to combine what had once been two small rooms. They'd drink and party while waiting to welcome their new sisters into the order.

Upstairs there were two bedrooms. Actually there was a third, normal bedroom where he often slept. In one, the girls to be initiated would be brought in blindfolded. They would be stripped, oiled, lubed and have to endure some decidedly lesbian attention from the pledge committee as part of their 'training'. Assuming that they didn't chicken out, after their session with Mike they would join the already initiated downstairs, recite some mumbo jumbo, don some sort of ceremonial robe and be welcomed into the sisterhood.

As each girl's turn arrived, she would pass through a door to the other bedroom. She would be completely naked and wearing a mask to hide her identity. The lights would be dim; Mike would be dressed in some sort of ridiculous leather and metal S&M garb. He'd affect his best Vader voice, telling her to sit on a small stool and present herself.

Or at least that was the way it was supposed to work. It had been more fun back when he had started. It had gotten old. The first girl came through the door. She was an absolutely stunning, tall brunette with letter-perfect tits that were definitely her own and a tightly cropped brown bush. She stood proudly in front of him in all her naked beauty. No man would have needed any medication to get erect in her presence.

The ordeal was very simple. She had to make him cum. She didn't get all night; he could stop her at any point and move on to the next phase or orifice. If she could do it with her mouth, she could opt out of the later stages---only one initiate had gotten him to cum in phase one: Becky Hundsucker---and she had gone for the full program with no hesitation.

Then the pledge had to make him cum with her pussy, assuming she had failed with her mouth. If that didn't work, he'd fuck her in the ass until he came---or faked it because he felt sorry for her, which happened more often than not. Hell, they were so lubed up no one would be the wiser. Just to be sure he'd squirt a healthy dose of an opaque lube up their sweet little butts that had the consistency of cum. He didn't recognize this one; she was probably a freshman and not in any of his classes.

"Hi! For convenience, you can call me Simon and you are?"

She would not give her real name but a pseudonym which was to become her secret sorority sister name.

"Pandora."

"Pandora. Fine. Nice to meet you, Pandora. You do understand that nothing that occurs in this room leaves this room per the consent agreement you signed?"

"Yes, Simon," she said, bowing her head.

"Do you have any questions on the rules---what is suppose to occur here?"

"No questions, Simon. I am to make you cum with my mouth, cunt or ass."

"Pandora, I've been the fixture, so to speak in these rituals for four years. In the past, I tried to make them theatrical and authentic to the best of my ability. I'm retiring after your pledge class. My rules now, or at least as they have evolved. Once you had the nerve to walk through that door, you passed the test as far as I'm concerned, but some rules are inviolate. If at any point you don't want to continue whatever activity we're engaged in---that is between you and me and no one else, with one caveat: you must make me cum or I would not being doing my duty to the sorority who had employed me.

"When you go downstairs, you will be asked if you made me cum. Your answer has to be yes or you are out. Then you will be asked how. I am required to confirm your answer; before you walk out that door, let's be damn sure we know how you made me cum. There have never been any failures on my watch but a couple of times we had to get creative. Any questions?"

"Your cock; may I see it now, master Simon?"

"Ah, yes! The main attraction!" he said, sweeping his cape from his body with a flourish. He was bone hard and extended at a forty-five degree angle and his equipment would have challenged a Jimmy Dean sausage roll in girth.