It's harder than it looks

Mary Anne Thompson was halfway through talking to her first pink when she got slapped in the face. The girl, a tall ginger with a banging body and skin-tight leggings, turned to find another partner. There were probably about two minutes left in the song, and Mary Anne couldn’t really figure out what she had done wrong.

At first, it had been a little difficult. She thought she could seduce these girls the same way she could seduce a guy on a lonely night: show a little bit of skin, smile at jokes, and one touch to the knee later, a girl can get exactly what she needs. But Marcus had come up to her before the first song started and told her, “Women like this, they don’t deserve to be treated with respect, right? I know it’s their own choice to use their bodies like that, but people make plenty of choices we don’t respect all the time. So when you’re talking to them, don’t show them that respect.”

Principal Mary Anne Thompson almost walked away, if she wasn’t halfway done with her current beer and the thigh wasn't so nice at this party. “Marcus, you can’t say stuff like that, bro.” She tapped his shoulder lightly. “These women still deserve respect. Just like me.” She ran her hands down her body. “Are you going to treat me any less respectfully just because I’m showing a little bit of my bra because I have a big ass?” She spanked herself with that one.

Marcus laughed. “Well, you’ve certainly come quite a long way since you came in here.” He pulled the camera up and took a picture of her. The flash radiated across the room. The rest of the frat boys were finally starting to put the finishing touches so that this challenge would be complete and the pinks stood in the middle of the room. “But you still have a lot to learn, young Padawan.”

She leaned in closer, listening intently. She could smell the beer on his breath, but he had been very kind and respectful since she first came in here, and even though she was just a pledge, she was starting to feel like she had found a brother. Although, obviously, it was a temporary relationship since she still planned on getting this place disbanded. He continued, putting his arm around her. “To be honest, and I say this with no bias, even though you’re my pledge- ” he looked her straight in the eye with a look of almost pride that made her want to smile, but she held his stare. “Do you mind if I put my hand on your heart before I say this?”

“Yes- I mean, no. Go ahead.” The principal was feeling flustered, a feeling that only increased as his hand went straight for her chest, laying right over her large breast and giving it a slight squeeze.

“A Delta Phi has heart. All of these other bozos don’t have half the heart you do.” He made sure to give her chest another squeeze. “Becoming a principal as a woman? That took heart. Raising a bitch-boy son even though he’s a bitch-boy? That took heart. Sucking dick like you did earlier? That took heart.” He looked around the room, almost in disgust, as his nose shrivelled and his eyes squinted. He let out a deep sigh, his hand never leaving its perfect position. “The other pledges here, those girls, they don’t have that. Only a true Alpha has that. And it’s the job of an Alpha to not show respect to anyone except another Alpha. Do you understand?”

Mary Anne Thompson nodded her head.

“Is your son an Alpha?”

She hated to say it; it hurt her to her very core, but she knew she couldn’t lie to Marcus. “No.”

“Why?” He put his hand down.

“Because he doesn’t have a heart.” She squeezed her own tit.

“There you go, now you got it. So now, if you want to be like us, go out there and show those women no respect. They don’t deserve you. So use them. But before you go, you should probably show me your heart.” He looked straight at her chest.

Years of feminist study, working with the top minds in education and equal rights, gender studies, as well as her own lived experiences consistently seeing the women in her life underappreciated—all of those things seemed to be overridden by the words of this powerful young man in front of her. An Alpha. Could she really be like him? Did she want to? She took a long sip of her beer, feeling the foam in her mouth, the cheap taste of it. It was a startling realization to realize that she kind of did. She started pulling her blouse and bra all the way down, exposing her tits halfway, but just before the areola became visible, she stopped and laughed at him. “Trust me, bro, I get it. Tits are great, but you haven’t earned mine yet.”

And she turned and made her way towards the pinks. She could hear Marcus laugh behind her. It was because of that advice that she found herself slapped one minute into the first song. She hadn’t even asked the first girl her name. Instead, she adapted a strategy which she used to categorize the teachers at her school. In this case, she went to the girl with large breasts and called her "Sugar Tits." She had never been slapped before, so all she could mutter as she went to look for the next girl was, “Bitch.” She wasn't a big fan of the term, but it felt appropriate for a girl she couldn't respect.

To her surprise, none of the other girls seemed to like her new attitude either. Mary Anne moved through the crowd like a wolf in a silk blouse, handing out crude nicknames or a sharp, stinging slap on a passing ass. She knew there was a massive disconnect between these actions and her professional demeanor as a principal, but her logic was warping. She respected the people who worked for her, but the way you treat an equal versus a subordinate was night and day—and Marcus had made it clear these girls were beneath her. In this house, Marcus was her superior, and it was her job to obey. This was the only way to join the fraternity, which would then free her bitch-boy son. Right?

It was becoming hard to think with so many scantily clad women surrounding her. The air was thick with the scent of cheap perfume, sweat, and spilled beer. Around the circle, the brothers and the girls who weren't participating cheered as the numbers dwindled, until suddenly, only one girl remained.

She was a breathtaking black woman wearing a shimmering, skin-tight bodysuit that clung to every curve like a second skin, the sheer fabric catching the light to reveal the lace of her bra beneath. The sorority symbol was stitched in silver thread across her chest, strained nearly to the breaking point by her heavy, swaying breasts. Her powerful thighs pushed out against the thin pink material, and as she moved to the music, the sight was hypnotic.

The only two pledges left were Mary Anne Thompson and Hayden Thompson. They both rushed toward the girl. From the crowd, people chanted Mary Anne’s name, while others cheered for Hayden with ironic cruelty.

Marcus spoke into the mic, his voice cutting through the bass. “Just a reminder: if neither of you get this girl, you’re both out.” He looked straight at Mary Anne. “Which would be a shame, since we thought you were better than that loser.”

FLASH.

The girl looked them both up and down. “To be honest, if I had to pick one of you... I’m not really into girls.”

Hayden looked at his mother with pure desperation. This was his chance to prove himself to his bullies. “Hi, I’m... Hayden. I like playing video games, and I study programming, so one day I’m going to make a lot of money.”

He was a sweet boy. He always had been. Principal Thompson felt a flicker of maternal instinct, thinking about dropping out to let him win. But then she thought of the brothers. She was supposed to be an Alpha. If she lost to her own son—a boy who still had an unopened box of condoms she’d bought him for his 18th birthday sitting gathering dust on his shelf—they would never see her as an equal.

She took the girl's hand, maintaining seductive eye contact. “You know what this kid’s nickname is, right? Gayden. They call him that because he can’t get his dick up around women,” she said unabashedly, sliding her arm around the girl’s waist, her fingers digging into the soft flare of her hip. “That’s not something you have to worry about with me, baby.” She leaned in, her lips brushing the girl's ear. “Let me eat you out until your legs shake.”

Her hand slid down the girl’s back and landed on that voluptuous ass, giving it a heavy, echoing slap. The girl looked shocked, but she stepped toward Hayden. “This lady is crazy. Come on, white boy.”

Hayden’s smile lit up the room. The house fell into a shocked silence as Mary Anne was left standing alone—the only pledge without a partner. The music stopped. Suddenly, the brothers broke into cheers, hoisting Hayden up as the girl sat on his lap.

Marcus shouted into the microphone, “A surprise winner as Hayden Thompson takes the challenge from his own mother!” He stared up at the ceiling as if speaking to the gods. “How disappointing.”

Mary Anne had never felt such crushing shame. She stared at her son. He was skinny, his face was a map of pimples, and he’d wet the bed until the sixth grade. And yet, he had bested her.

Behind her, a hand took hers and guided her toward the back of the room. She followed like a lost puppy. It was Marcus. He handed her another beer. Mary Anne’s eyes welled up. “I don’t know what I did... I did what you told me! I treated them without respect, but they hated it!” She cracked the beer and began chugging, desperate to drown the embarrassment.

“Stop crying. You’re embarrassing yourself.” Marcus looked at her with cold disgust. “You found those girls attractive, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re an Alpha, right?”

“I... I don’t know.”

Marcus put a hand under her chin, forcing her head up. He held his camera inches from her face. FLASH. The light seared into her retinas, leaving a pulsing white void in the center of her vision. He was so attractive; Mary Anne felt herself melting. Pictures played in her head of an orgasmic blast—of being used right here on the dirty, wet floor of the frat house.

“You’re a slut,” he said matter-of-factly.

Mary Anne couldn’t find a counter-argument. She just stared, her mouth slightly open.

“You’re a slut,” he repeated, more forcefully, the words sinking into her brain like lead weights. She began to nod. She was a slut. She’d given a stranger a blowjob. Her bra was showing. It all made sense.

“Say it,” he demanded, his hand moving to her collar and yanking her closer.

“I’m a slut,” she whispered, her voice a meek, broken version of the woman who had entered the house.

“But you aren’t a slut like them,” Marcus said, gesturing to the girls outside who were half-naked and frantic. “I like my MILFs with big titties. And when we’re done here, I’m going to use your pussy and your mouth however I want.”

FLASH. He triggered the camera again. The world blurred.

“But you’re going to be more than that. You’re going to be one of the brothers. You’ll provide us with funds, and by the time we’re done tonight, you’ll realize that women are meant to be fucked, used, and controlled. We control you, and you control them.”

He released her shirt. Mary Anne stood there, dazed, a thin trail of drool escaping her lip as her eyes glazed over completely.

“And you’re not going to embarrass me like that again,” Marcus laughed. “You won’t remember I said any of this. In ten seconds, you’re going to regain consciousness. All you’ll remember is that you want to prove yourself more than ever—that you’re a slut, and you’ll do anything to become one of us. Oh, I also want to hear a bit more of that country accent of yours. That’s just more personal taste”

He reached out and undid the rest of her buttons, fully exposing her scandalous black lace bra, the scalloped edges straining against her heavy cleavage.

“5... 4... 3... 2... 1.”

“Oh gosh, sorry, honey. I must’ve spaced out there for a second.” Mary Anne looked down at the deep valley of cleavage spilling out of her open blouse. Instead of covering up, she reached in and pushed her breasts upward, settling them so they sat high and inviting. She sure loved it when a guy could see her tits; she knew it made her brothers happy.

She flashed a wide, vacant smile at Marcus. “Gotta make sure the girls look nice and pretty.” She stepped right into his space, resting her head against his broad chest. “Sorry about earlier, Marcus. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive little old me.”

“It’s not your fault, Mary Anne,” he said, his voice a low, soothing rumble. He held her close, letting his hand drop from her waist to rest heavily on the swell of her ass.

She was such a slut, she thought to herself. The realization didn't sting; it felt comfortable, like a fact of nature. It was just who she was.

“Some girls just don’t know what they want,” Marcus added.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she said, a slight Southern twang creeping into her voice as her sophisticated principal persona continued to erode. She felt safe in Marcus’s arms, but his face twisted into a mask of disgust as he looked over her shoulder at Hayden, who was still being celebrated by the other frat members.

“What if I told you there was a way we could make these pinks more… accommodating?”

“How?” Mary Anne asked, her brow furrowing. She couldn't see a way. Those sluts out there were so frigid.

He held up the camera, angling it toward her. “Before I hand you this, I have to let you know that Dionysus let me in on a little secret.”

“Oh yeah?” She lifted her head, her eyes locking onto his lips. Her mouth hung slightly open, ready and waiting.

“Yeah,” he whispered, pulling her even tighter until their lips were inches apart. “One of those pledges was already dating one of the pinks, so he had an unfair advantage. We’re kicking him out.”

He didn't give her time to process the news before he leaned in, kissing her deeply and hungrily. Their tongues danced, and Mary Anne let herself melt into the sensation. She hadn’t kissed anyone since her husband years ago, but she surrendered to this completely. Why had it been so long? Why would a slut like her go so long without this kind of pleasure?

He paused for air, his eyes dark with intent. “That means you get another shot in about ten minutes. So, how about you go find one of the pinks you find the hottest and take some pictures. I think you’ll find them to become more accommodating.”

She grabbed the device, looping the strap around her neck even as she leaned back in for more. She let the camera fall between her breasts, then reached down to Marcus’s pants, giving his cock a firm, lingering squeeze. “Pictures? How does that work?”

He held the camera. “It’s magic. Got it from an archeology dig.”

She backed away slowly, her eyes never leaving his. She found that she believed him. “If you want me to, and it means being a brother... I’ll gladly show one of these girls where she belongs.”

She turned to start her mission when a thought occurred to her. “Wait... weren’t you taking pictures of me with this camera?”

“Yeah,” Marcus smirked. “We were turning you from a frigid bitch into our slutty MILF fraternity brother.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across Mary Anne’s face. She walked back to him, took the camera off her neck, and pressed it into his hands. “Do you want to take one more picture of me before I complete my mission?”

Before he could answer, she hooked her fingers into the lace of her bra and pulled it down. Her creamy white breasts tumbled out, heavy and full. Her mid-sized areolas, pebbled with small bumps, darkened as her nipples peaked into hard points in the cool air. Marcus was only the third person in years to see her like this, and as the camera flashed, she knew he wouldn't be the last.

She took the camera back, snatched the developing Polaroid from his hand, and turned on her heel. She had a job to do.

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