Chapter 6 #2
I hate this part. My skin itches just sitting near so many people. Brothers. You’d think growing up as the oldest of three brothers and two sisters would make this easier. It doesn’t.
Greek Life at Northview isn’t keg stands and secret handshakes—it’s sacrifice. Blood contracts disguised as tradition.
Delta Pi Alpha isn’t just another fraternity. You join knowing you’ll leave tainted with your hands dirty and scars stitched into your soul. We run espionage ops and handle chaos that the university can’t publicly endorse.
The Seventh Society calls the shots, hands us the assignments, including designating marital pairings in rituals no one dares question aloud.
The Culling—our version of a wedding—binds senior fraternity members to appointed sorority sisters, forging alliances built on leverage, not love.
A civil marriage can follow, if they choose.
But the Culling? That bond is for life. Even if the women are treated like communal property.
Initiation isn’t easy. Every action cements your loyalty or becomes ammunition used against you. And once you’re in, leaving isn’t an option.
Apollo begins the meeting with a cleared throat.
His voice cuts through the vape mist and beer haze like a blade as he grabs everyone’s attention with his passion.
“This is our game. I don’t give a fuck that it’s on Theta grounds.
We’re taking it. They got us on Monday. But Tuesday night, we take those points back. ”
He paces in front of the room, broad shoulders coiled with energy, the veins in his neck taut like he’s holding back violence.
The huge, rounded oak table, carved with generations of Delta initials, is surrounded by those who would bleed for me just because of the symbol they burned into my back. For once, we’re all silent.
We listen. We wait for the signal. We know what’s at stake.
The Lunar Chalice.
Win it, and you earn rites. Protection. Favor.
Lose, and the society keeps you on a leash. Extortion and blackmail is just the beginning of the headaches you’ll face for four years, plus a possible permanent asterisk next to your name. One that, if activated by the board, strips them of mercy. And you of the shield of safety.
It’s been this way since the university was founded: three fraternities and three sororities, competing for survival. A training ground for obedience. For compliance. To create a world of controllable assets for Seventh Society.
Most join to become one. They get wealth, fame…whatever they desire. I joined to destroy their way of life: one that rewards silence, demands obedience, and kneels before monsters.
I want to be their consequence and help others break free of their conditioning.
Apollo lifts the projection screen, revealing the map beneath—the whiteboard scrawled with paths, traps, and blood-colored X’s.
“For the initiates: Terror Tuesday is a series of horror escape rooms located on Theta Rho Zeta’s grounds.
If you and your group of five escape? You earn us five points and get an invitation to the party inside the manor.
Don’t think of taking your weapons inside.
We’re not starting a war… Not that way.”
Lex Lynx’s smirk fades, darkness shielding his eyes. His hand slides toward the gun on his hip.
“If you can’t make it out in time, you’re diverted to the basement of TRZ for twenty-four hours, where anything can happen to you. No rules in the dungeon. No mercy either. Lose, and you don’t just fail us. You become the sacrifice. Not even Vengracurus can save you.”
Beckham Locke raises his hand like he’s in elementary school. When Apollo gives him a wan expression, Beckham’s dimples deepen as he says, “I heard they have some, uh, creature locked up down there called ‘Gimpma.’ Is that true?”
“No way. That old woman has to be dead by now.”
“Maybe they replaced her.”
“I heard they have a new one…and this one’s even more shriveled than the last.”
“Yeah. The old one died last year of chlamydia… I think they kept fucking her, too.”
A riot of mock gags and foul expressions explodes from the crowd.
Apollo regains the room’s attention. But the only one his gaze can meet as he brushes over the Gimpma situation is me. “Vanq, what are you doing this year to help us succeed?”
Everyone turns to look at me, and despite the black fabric covering my entire head, I shirk back, my cheeks flaming underneath. I knew he wanted me to speak up, but I hate this. So much.
“I’ll be watching the flow of you all from just over the eastern hill from the cottages.
The best satellite access is there. I’ve broken into their timer system and can sequentially unlock the doors, so it doesn’t appear as if it’s been tampered with.
Fuck around for about ten minutes, then move to the next room. ”
Apollo nods once, then addresses the boys.
“Listen up. Again, this is no weapons allowed. I don’t want to see anyone breaking the rules.
” He stares at Lex, who gives him a stolid grin.
“If we lose…it’s not just points. You understand?
If one of you doesn’t win, your entire group will be locked up by those sadistic freaks for the night.
If you solve the room in under ten minutes, great.
If not, Vanq will be there to help. Questions? ”
The meeting breaks into riotous laughter, with boots thudding against the old floorboards, and a party atmosphere snaps back into place. Someone mentions a few kegs. A pre-Tuesday party.
But I don’t follow them out. I know that if I hurry, I can grab a little peace before Sunday evening is finished.
I need her.
The dewy hill is silent as I make my way behind Omega house from the lake. The night smells of damp earth and rosemary. I dart through the trees as if I belong to them. Apollo asked if I touched grass, but he doesn’t know about my visits.
Silently scaling her balcony, I pick the lock and slide inside. One slip, one witness, and my careful control would shatter. I’d have to take care of problems I don’t want to handle. But I’m also addicted to being here.
The spicy scent of her immediately floods my nose until it pumps up my dick to rock-hard capacity.
It’s another Sunday night, Greek Life meeting night, where she’s downstairs, oblivious.
Her room is messy, the aftermath of her hurried change from perfect student to pristine sorority president.
On the floor is a pile of clothing, including a lacy thong.
Not black, like the one she had on the night before.
This one is delicate and innocent. Must’ve gone under the structured suit I saw her wearing to the president’s house.
I pick them up and hold them to my face, inhaling long and deep. It’s better than any fucking weed Apollo smokes. Certainly more potent than pills. This drug has lingered in my system for three years. Since I first saw her. But I could never have her.
Until now.
I paid my dues. Bided my time for that fuck she’s been with to disappear until I couldn’t stand it any longer. So now, I’m making moves.
Including unzipping my jeans and shoving the fabric over my heated dick, stroking myself with a vise-like grip.
I imagine what her pussy must feel like.
How tight and wet it must be. Her expression of resistance giving way to acceptance as I plunge inside, then her shock and horror at realizing my come is buried close to her womb.
Fresh panties fill her drawers, and I snag the top pair while continuing to cushion my cock with the dirty one.
A picture of her on her mirror from a Red Night event last year peers back at me.
Seductive eyes. Skimpy dress barely covering her thick ass.
Breasts so huge I could survive off just sucking on them.
It makes me come so violently, I almost lose my footing. But I aim directly for the crotch of her clean underwear. Coating it with everything I have. My love. My obsession. My hatred of the rules. My concern that she’ll never metamorphose. But my hope that she will.
When I’m finished, I fold the panties carefully, placing them back on top.
I can’t wait until she unknowingly carries my seed pressed to her most intimate places, my darkness seeping inside her, staking my claim.