Sweetheart of Summa Chi

 

The evening was warm and still. Glittering stars danced across a deep indigo sky. Nyah and Sam were alone in the park that night. Through the bug-spattered windshield, Nyah watched the full moon slowly emerge from a strand of cloud and flood the trees with a silvery cast, transforming the foliage into a fairyland. It was so eerie she half expected to hear the howl of a coyote on the make. The moon light morphed her arms from dark coffee to an alabaster sheen. Sam hadn't noticed. He was too preoccupied with the straining bodice of her sundress and that low crossover neckline. Sarah had chosen the dress for her before she embarked on her first training session. Feckless Sam was her subject.

Sarah had also given her a nursing bra, which she assured Nyah would push Sam over the brink the second he saw it. Nyah smiled nervously at his moan of astonishment when the taut white cotton expanse of her bra came into his view. At that instant, she knew Sarah and Ms. Hallstrom were right. Sam was still a little boy. It moved her so she could have spanked him.

"Thank you," he gasped. "How did you know?"

"Never you mind, Sam. It's enough that I knew." She drew his head down and pressed his face into the resilient cleavage springing from the vee of her bra.

Like an eager puppy, he fondled and sniffed the bra fabric. Her bra seemed to excite him as much as what it contained. She wondered if he would dare to play his fingers over her breasts. He finally screwed up his courage and began to press his hands into her pillowy softness. She could feel him melting into her warmth. She held him tightly into her breasts, nearly smothering him, ignoring his pleas, silently reminding him he was her charge now. Sarah was not here to rescue him. Frissons of pleasure coursed through her as she remembered what her senior mentor and sorority sister had told her.

"Sam is a wretched desperate boy... clearly has no idea... doesn't yet really get the intent or meaning of our rules nor does he know what we intend to do with him. Your boobs have blinded him. He shall have them just this once as we continue to prep him for Rite. There will be a price, of course. By God, he will pay for the privilege! Ms. Hallstrom will see to that. I know you're not sure you want to do this, but you have to know, have to experience a boy. Trust me. I have never misled you."

She released her grip on Sam, allowed him to fight with the zipper of his jeans and wrestle out his stiffening cock. She reminded herself she knew this was going to happen; it was exactly what she and Sarah had discussed. She had to endure Sam's juvenile antics - if those were even the right words. There was no way back for him. He didn't know it yet, but Ms. Hallstrom owned him body and soul. He was so like an over eager puppy. He'd been shagging her around the sorority house, catering to her, desperately wanting her. He didn't notice Ms. Hallstrom and Sarah were watching from the wings, coordinating his every move. In the end, they would have achieved his abject subjugation.

Sarah had urged her to allow Sam to think she was submitting to him. She relished that opportunity to fill his little mind with her play-acting. What he hadn't yet learned was that if she chose she could stop him in mid-air, freeze him in mid-motion, with a snap of her fingers. He needed regular discipline and she hoped she would be a part of that though as a freshman it would be a sorority first. Sarah was right. Sarah had decided her course of action and she was rarely wrong. It was Nyah's turn now.

Sarah had said Sam was the perfect subject, a scampering insecure little boy in a young man's slender body. Nyah had wanted to spank him, make him calm down. She had considered it. It might shame him into abject submission, but it would also play to his need for her to mother and control him. Her maternal instinct would fuel his fire, for which there was no need. He was already on fire. Better, she decided to continue as Sarah had planned it. Just keep the boy in his playpen and see what happened. Most importantly, Sarah suggested, see how she felt when it was over.

She'd never been with a boy, though, of course, there had been tons of chances. With her pinched waist, ample hips and bottom, and an overflowing bust line she still confined in a bra, every boy on campus was in hot pursuit. Ironically, she had little interest in boys. The ones she'd been attracted to didn't seem to care about her as a person. They were only interested in getting her out of her bra and their hands inside her panties.

Their rough pawing and groping didn't excite her, being in control of them did. As a child, she'd watched her mother manage her father. Her mother never raised her voice or lifted a hand to her father. Her icy look and tone were enough to bring him to heel. She'd mentioned that to Sarah who'd scarcely been able to conceal her envy.

Nyah was tall and carried her generous body weight with a silky grace. She had luminous ebony eyes and hair she liked to wear up in a pug or a twist. Her mouth was full and wide and seldom saw lip-gloss. She wished her hips and backside weren't so full even though everyone, including Sarah, said she had a stunning body that looked especially rad in jeans. Her bust line was her best - and her worst - asset. At age ten, her breasts were already too prominent. At 18 without a bra, her breasts descended full and deep from high on her chest wall to cover her navel. She had her mother's proud nipples, perpetually thick and firm. At the rate she was out-growing bras, it was becoming apparent she was going to be bigger than her mother.

One night while in bed beneath Sarah, impaled on her strap-on, the senior leaned down, kissed her, and whispered, "Darling, it is time for you to get your feet wet. I want you to take Sam to a movie. Afterwards, go have a few drinks, loosen him up. I want you to let him fuck you. Let him think it was all his idea."

Having never been with a boy, much less gone all the way, scared the hell out of Nyah, but Sarah wouldn't budge. It wasn't a suggestion and Nyah knew it. "He worships you, girl. There is nothing to fear. You are in control. Just be nice. Hide your claws; don't take any of his crap. Ms. Hallstrom and I are grooming Sam for permanent residency in the sorority house. We want you to let him into your garden. It's part of his training and it's your Rite of passage. Experience a boy. See what happens to you, how it makes you feel."

Sarah had sealed her marching orders with a smoldering kiss and several firm thrusts of her strap-on. It was no wonder she had agreed. Still, she wondered if this was the right thing. Sam was turning into an animal. His hand had found its way between her thighs. His fingers worked desperately at the inseam of her jeans, seeking to penetrate the sturdy denim.

He reminds me of a date rape! I take him to a show, buy him a couple of drinks, and then he thinks he can fuck me. Well, fuck on, Sam. Sarah and Ms. Hallstrom will even the score.

She unbuckled her jeans and ran down the zipper. To her surprise, she was growing moist. Her growing sense of superiority, her anticipation of capturing him between her thighs, overcame her nervousness. Her innate dominance was working its own kind of magic.

"Sam, stop that pawing. Wait until I get out of my jeans. You'd better behave yourself or I'll take you straight over my knee.