The Gauntlet

Author's note: This is a work of fiction. It features mild themes of reluctant sex. All characters are over age eighteen. Thank you for reading!

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Crouched and panting, Emma hid just inside the tangled cover of vines and hedges. The eighteen year-old surveyed the clearing before her with care. There could be clues there, clues she would need if she wanted to advance. It wasn't just her strength they were testing. Her intelligence, perceptiveness, and willpower were also being assessed.

The Gauntlet, it turned out, required everything they said it took to be a Broyce girl, along with one thing no one had mentioned.

A trickle of cum dripped down her thigh.

***

"Ladies and gentlemen, hold on! We may... hold on!"

The buzz in the already loud natatorium continued to surge. Emma, catching her ragged breath at the end of the pool, raised her eyes to the timekeeper's board. After an agonizingly long moment, her time appeared, 58.38.

"Yes! In lane four our own Emma Lefft has broken the high school record! Fifty-eight point three eight seconds in the one hundred meter breaststroke!"

The place erupted. Teammates near the pool rushed her, leaping in for an impromptu celebration, while even competitors slapped the water or leaned on the floats to applaud her. She was swarmed with hugs, pats, and even a few mad kisses. Emma caught a glimpse of her coach, arms raised triumphantly, but winking her way. Mrs. Koch had never doubted her. Nor had Emma ever truly doubted herself. She was having a perfect senior season.

Only later, most of the celebrations over, did the swimmer have a chance to reflect fully on her year. Sitting out front of the school, tickled by an uncharacteristically warm spring evening, she tried to make it all fit. First had been her academic goals. While grades weren't settled yet, Emma knew she had excelled in all of her subjects. Through a combination of natural ability and a drive instilled in her by her family, she had even conquered calculus. She didn't want to jinx it, but valedictorian wasn't out of the question.

Then there was her swimming. Long of arm and leg, Emma wasn't built stockily enough to be a short-distance swimmer. However, she had found her home in somewhat longer events, particularly the breaststroke and fly. Alarming even her usually supportive parents, Emma had circled the state finals on her calendar. To win in one or both events had been her goal since the past October. Taking the record in the breaststroke was almost too good to believe.

Finally was her choice of which university to attend. A power conference school with plenty of scholarships seemed like a natural option, although Emma worried privately that a larger school wouldn't feel welcoming to her. The senior had also begun compiling a list of smaller schools.

Waiting for her ride, Emma mentally reviewed the list of prospects, but hadn't made much progress before the crunch of gravel interrupted her.

"Hi, are you Emma...", the newcomer hesitated, "Lefft?"

"Lefft, with two Fs," Emma said automatically. She looked up.

The woman standing to her side was attractive in a restrained sort of way. Petite, with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her pencil skirt and plain but elegant white blouse suggested something beyond the first blush of success. She didn't belong at a swim meet.

"I'm Kassandra," the newcomer said, offering her hand. She joined Emma on the bench. "I'm glad I found you." They shook.

"You were looking for me?" Emma turned the newly-won medal in her hand. The ribbon was still stiff.

"Yes," the young woman said, flashing a brilliant smile. "I wanted to talk to you about your college admissions."

"Ah, okay," mumbled Emma. "Which school?"

"Broyce." Her smile was a touch smug.

Of course Emma had heard of Broyce. The exclusive all-girls school was well known for turning out future CEOs, partners in top law firms, and even cabinet appointees. It was also notoriously difficult to get into.

"Oh, but I didn't apply there."

Kassandra just smiled politely. "No one does," she said, "not really. I mean, anyone can apply, but we hand-select our future students." She tugged back a strand of hair that had escaped the ponytail.

"You work in admissions there?" Emma was starting to rally. She had applied at several top schools and knew what to expect in an interview, even an unscheduled one.

"Oh, no," said Kassandra. "No. I graduated two years ago. I work in Richmond now. Business development." She squared herself to Emma, but kept a companionable distance. "But, how do I explain it? We, all alumni, help with recruiting. You've been on our list for most of this year. I thought this would be a good evening to come see you. I have to say," her eyes flickered briefly to Emma's medal, "I was right."

Emma turned away, hoping to hide the blush creeping onto her face. Broyce, a school that would all but assure her a challenging and rewarding academic experience, knew who she was. A seemingly successful graduate had traveled well over an hour just to meet her and see her swim. She would never get this experience applying to or attending a large university.

"Well, thank you." What was there to say? "I'm certainly interested in Broyce, I just never thought I could get in the door. Mostly I've looked at schools that offer swimming scholarships." She took a gamble. "What sport did you play?"

Kassandra's smile told Emma she had made a good guess. Her new friend chuckled. "Tennis. And it's

do

, not

did.

I played in high school, and at Broyce. My firm has a club membership now, although of course I can't play quite as often as I'd like."

Emma was beginning to like Kassandra. The young woman carried herself with considerable poise and confidence. Yet something nagged at Emma.

"I didn't think Broyce offered athletic scholarships though."

"We don't," said Kassandra at once. She eyed Emma carefully. "It doesn't work that way. Our scholarships are based on need. Don't get me wrong, everyone who attends Broyce is athletic, but it isn't important in what way. You might be a distance runner, or row crew, or play lacrosse. As long as you're a good fit for the school, you get a full ride. Well, your academics have to be tops as well..."

Emma barely heard her. Images of crisp fall days, walking the peaceful campus, with a friend or alone with her thoughts, filled her mind. She dragged herself back. "Well, the campus does look beautiful. I went on line and-"

The hum of an approaching car interrupted her. It was her mother, picking Emma up after the meet. Awkwardly, Emma rose to her feet. Kassandra rose as well. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Do you have a-"

"Card, of course." Kassandra pressed a glossy flyer into her hand. "Card's inside. It was lovely meeting you, really. Let's stay in touch."

***

Three men stood in the clearing, each separated from the others and waiting patiently. They were shirtless, but wore running shorts and shoes. Emma sized them up. All appeared to be under age thirty and in reasonable shape. One man with short-cropped blond hair was slender of build, with light muscles. The man to his left was dusky of skin, with unruly chest hair. His build was shorter and thicker. The third had a more average build, tall, but with a trace of softness. Emma had noticed the men of the Gauntlet weren't necessarily as athletic as the young women running it. A marshal, wearing Broyce colors, stood nearby.

Emma trotted into the dim evening light. There seemed no point in waiting; she had learned all she could from cover. The marshal met her. If surprised or distressed by Emma's appearance she made no show of it.

"Emma, who amazes you more, Odysseus, or Theseus?"

In her school visits, it had been impossible to ignore the institution's connection to classical literature. The imposing halls bordered with columns, the formal hedges and gardens, the sculpture, all reminded visitors that a Broyce education was a classical one. Duly, Emma had over the summer taken time to review some of the more well-known works of Greek and Roman literature.

The answer at first blush was easy. The Odyssey, though not necessarily a compelling read, was a genuine hero's journey. In fact, it was arguably

the

hero's journey from which future writers took their inspiration. The adventures of Theseus on the other hand were a bit of a jumble. Significant as they undeniably were, there wasn't a single narrative to capture his trials and achievements. Emma opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Something wasn't right.

It couldn't be a subjective question. The Gauntlet was too important, both to her and Broyce. There must be some clue she had missed. Again, Emma scanned the clearing. She couldn't find a thing to help. What was so amazing about either hero? Wasn't Hercules the bigger deal? In any event, the choice of the word 'amazing' struck her as odd.

Then Emma laughed, shaking her head. Of course! The clue had been right there for her to find. She turned to the marshal.

"Well, Odysseus is pretty great, but Theseus when he killed the Minotaur was the most a-

maze

-ing." She sounded the word out with maximum exaggeration.

The marshal smiled warmly. "Yes! The Minotaur lived in a labyrinth, which is synonymous with a maze. Your next event is the eight hundred meters. You may pick which of the thee to race."

Emma surged with relief. Without doubt if she had guessed wrong she'd have to race all three of the men, one of whom was sure to be a skilled middle-distance runner. Instead, she could pick. "Him," she said, pointing to the least ripped of the bunch.

***

"Well, at least it's a beautiful evening for us to torture you," said Kassandra.

The two stood side-by-side near the starting pen. Kassandra, like the other visiting alumni, had been invited to a pre-event reception, but had snuck out early to share a quiet moment with Emma before things got started. A few participants were taking advantage of the warm-up area. Some stood on their own, collecting themselves, or perhaps having second thoughts. Just behind Kassandra's shoulder a small group of young women, some in tears, were being comforted and taken to a waiting van. Kassandra followed Emma's gaze.

"It isn't too late to go with them," she said, her voice kept steady and low. "I almost did when it was my turn. There's so much we're not allowed to tell you about the Gauntlet."

The idea held no appeal to Emma. To the contrary, this past weekend on campus, the previous school visit, and even the select alumni events she had been invited to over the past several months had all resonated strongly with Emma. She was meant to be here. "Thanks Kassi. I appreciate it, but no. Tomorrow we'll be sisters."

Kassandra beamed, and hugged her. For a moment, Emma caught a hint of the Champagne that her sponsor had been sipping at the reception. The young woman's confidence and drive were infectious. In five years, or perhaps ten, the two might find themselves side-by-side in a boardroom. Or perhaps at opposite sides of the table. It didn't matter. She ached to join the kinship that was so plain amongst the Broyce grads.

The grounds were even more beautiful than the brochure had made them look. The campus itself was surprisingly compact, but the woods surrounding it were sprawling. The lone approach drive cut straight through, with the trees leaning over and pressing in claustrophobically close. The tunnel-like drive made for a spectacular vista when it finally opened up to reveal the tidy campus. However, as solid as the woods appeared, Emma knew they were riddled with paths, fields, running trails, and even a modest lake. It was here the Gauntlet would be run.

"Listen Em', I need to tell you something." Looking a bit nervous, Kassandra led Emma toward a more private corner of the lawn. "You already know I can't tell you much more about the Gauntlet, but there's something you need to know. Something that will help."

Emma let herself be steered away. There was only the faintest hint of coolness to the air of the late August evening. Back in Virginia it would still be oppressive, but here in Vermont, summer was loosening its grip. "Okay," she said, "tell me."

"Well, you already know that your strength, endurance, and drive will be tested tonight. I think that's been pretty clear." Kassandra's eyes were focused, intense. "You'll be pushed to your limit, both physically and emotionally."

"That's been shared," Emma agreed.

"But, it isn't just that." Kassandra, normally so articulate, seemed to be struggling. "We're an all-girls school, but we aren't against men. Out here, or rather out there," Kassandra waved her hand ambiguously, "they're our partners and teammates. Maybe we learn better without them around, but in the real world we have to work with them side-by-side. We have to deal with them."

Emma nodded, trying to look as if she understood. There had in the Broyce literature been acknowledgements of the advantages of an all-girls education. But there had also been references to partnerships with all-boys schools, mixed-enrollment schools, and other opportunities to meet and interact with young men. Was this what Kassandra was referring to?

"Anyway," Kassandra said, "tonight you'll be put in, ah, contact with boys, with men. You should understand." It seemed as if she wanted to say more but had lost her voice.

Kassandra's words were hardly a revelation. There had been other hints dropped by the alumni, some with a grin. Emma, however, wasn't any closer to true understanding. "You mean we'll compete against them?"

"Yes!" Kassandra said suddenly, as if finally given something she could agree with wholeheartedly. "Well, yes. Against and with. Think of it as a mirror of real life. You'll partner in school, the workforce, and with friends. Sometimes teammates, sometimes adversaries, sometimes more." She stopped and drew back noticeably, a shy smile on her lips. For a moment, Emma thought she might continue, but a horn sounded, bringing to a whisper the conversations around them.

"Group five!" announced one of the race marshals. These were the Broyce junior and senior women running the event.

From there things moved quickly. Mercifully, Emma was in the next group, sparing her the anxiety of waiting any longer while her peers started their events. With a soundless 'good luck' Kassandra allowed herself to be guided away while Emma and several others were taken to the start areas, each separated from the others by at least fifty or one hundred meters. Ahead of her the woods loomed, ancient and imposing. Only a seemingly tiny opening in the hedges suggested a path.

The horn sounded.

A sprint was pointless. The distance to the path was too short to get much speed up, and in any event Emma had come to understand that succeeding in the Gauntlet was as much about conserving energy for the right moment as it was all-out efforts. She jogged to the edge of the woods, and after only a moment of hesitation, stepped inside.

Emma noticed the difference at once. The air inside the woods was heavier and richer, redolent with leaves already fallen, with rot, and with life. It felt a few degrees cooler and a thousand years older. Allowing her eyes time to adjust, the brunette trotted along the trail until she came to a clearing. She had reached her first test.

"Welcome Emma," said the marshal, smiling politely. Behind her, just far enough away to be shadowed, stood three young men. They were shirtless, but each had covered his waist with a towel. Each wore a mask over their eyes which allowed them to see, but somewhat concealed their identities. The three were more alike than different, with lean, tightly muscled bodies very much like the swimmers at her school. They looked to be in their early twenties, with unruly blond or brown hair escaping from the confines of their masks.

"The tests will have a similar format," said the marshal, reading from a clipboard. "You'll answer a question or make a choice. Your selection will determine how easy or difficult the challenge itself will be. Are you ready?"

"I am," Emma said quickly. She had expected something along these lines. She flicked her eyes to the three young men, wondering what their role would be.

"Your question then," said the marshal. She wore a sensible long below-the-knee skirt and a long-sleeved blouse in Broyce colors. "Name at least four of the founders of Broyce college."

Emma froze. In her rush to prepare for the Gauntlet she had brushed up on a number of subjects, but realized too late she had largely ignored school history. What little she remembered from the brochure was of scant help.

"Helen Broyce," she said, almost hesitantly. The marshal made a note on her clipboard but otherwise gave no reaction. Her gaze was neutral, steady.

Where else had she read about the founders? Helen Broyce's image came to mind, engraved on a plaque. She must have in her previous school visit seen monuments to the founders. She closed her eyes and tried to retrieve the memory.

"Holton!" she practically shouted. "Um, last name was Holton." She remembered now. Holton had stuck in her mind because it was the same last name as one of her classmates.

"Last name is fine, Emma," the marshal said quietly, making another mark on her clipboard. "That's two."

"And McCombe!" Emma was relieved, remembering the dour portrait. She concentrated again, sure that another name would come to her. Nothing did. Had she only seen three of the plaques? She cursed inwardly.

"I'm afraid time's up Emma." The marshal stepped back and addressed the young men. "Three, you're excused. There may be another assignment for you later."

The young man in question slumped in what might have been disappointment before righting himself. His eyes turned to Emma. To her astonishment, he looked her up and down brazenly before giving her an exaggerated wink. Finally he trotted off the way Emma had come.

"This is a timed event." The marshal had returned her attention to Emma. "As quickly as possible, and using only your mouth, finish both men. Starting, now!"

Even more astonished than before, Emma watched as both of the young men tugged off their towels. Neither was wearing anything else. Two semi-erect penises swung into view.

Emma gaped. She had expected to race them, either in the pool or along one of the wild trails bordering the school. She had even wondered if there would be some other game like chess, something to test her intellect. But sex had never entered her mind. Or had it? There had been Kassandra's carefully-phrased innuendo, the sly jokes she had overheard, and even the unexpectedly large number of young, and a few not so young, men present on the grounds.

"This is the Gauntlet, Emma." The marshal sensed her hesitation. "This is your test." Her arms were crossed in front of her, holding the clipboard against her body. "We get that it isn't what you expected, but it's the Broyce way. You can leave, of course. Any time. But if you want to be a Broyce girl, this is the next step."

Her eyes shot to the young men. Both had become somewhat soft during her hesitation and the marshal's explanation. Again, she cursed herself. The purpose was to get them off as quickly as possible, yet she had wasted time. Time she would have to make up. A plan emerged.

Emma trotted to the two men. "Which of you is bigger?" she asked. "You're so soft I can't tell."

Two looked at her quizzically, while One laughed. "I am, check it out!" On cue, One began stroking his dick.

Two seemed annoyed. "Bro, that's her job." Still, Emma noticed that his fingers had found his organ.

"Oh, I'll finish you both, but I like a challenge." She gave both men what she hoped was an enticing glance. "Whoever's bigger goes first. Or rather, cums first." Emma surprised even herself with the dirty talk.