Frat Games: Hell Week Ch. 02

Jace's Personal Task

There he was.

Jace. Lying behind me in my bed like he belonged there. Like this was his room, not mine. His breath was hot against the back of my neck. His body pressed up against mine, firm and solid, like every inch of him was built to make me feel smaller.

"Finish what you started, pledge," he muttered.

Then I felt it - his hand at my hip. The shift of his legs behind me. He adjusted his body, grinding forward until the thick shape of his cock slid between the cheeks of my ass. Slow. Intentional. My breath hitched, but I didn't move away. Not even a little.

I just lay there on my side, half-asleep, half-hard and let Jace's body press against mine from behind.

His cock was hard. I could feel it through his shorts, thick and hot, grinding up the curve of my ass like he was claiming me in the dark. His hand stayed on my hip, steadying me while he moved, slow, rhythmic thrusts that made the bed creak and my breath catch.

"Yes," I whispered, eyes fluttering shut again. "Yes, Brother Jace..."

"That's it, pledge," he muttered against the back of my neck, his breath damp and rough. "Just feel it."

I rolled my hips, pushing back into him, letting the curve of my ass mold around the shape of his cock. Every grind was hotter than the last, like we weren't just dry-humping, we were fucking through clothes. And it was filthy. Quiet. Slow. So hot I couldn't think straight.

"You're seriously already dripping for me?" he murmured, cocky now. "You liked riding me earlier, huh?"

I didn't answer. I just kept moving, letting my body do the begging for me.

He pushed harder. I whimpered.

Then he pulled back. "Turn around," Jace said, voice low and commanding. "Get your face between my legs. I've got a real task for you."

I didn't hesitate.

I flipped over and crawled down the bed until I was between his thighs. He laid back, arms folded behind his head like this was a fucking massage, not a blowjob.

"Take those shorts off, pledge."

I swallowed hard.

I reached forward and hooked the waistband of his shorts with both hands. I peeled them down over his thighs, slow and careful, until they bunched at his knees. And there it was..... his cock. Thick and heavy, lying flat against his stomach. Not insanely huge, but just real. Long enough to make me pause. Long enough to make me want to taste him. Veins snaking the underside. The skin darker at the tip, already glistening.

I rolled over onto my stomach, kissed down the trail from his navel, and settled between his legs. He stayed lying there with his hands behind his head like he was just sunbathing, like my mouth didn't matter. That only made me want it more.

I started slow.

Tongue first, just a long, warm lick from base to tip. I felt him twitch the second I got to the top. Then another lick, slower this time. I wrapped my lips around the head and sucked, letting my mouth adjust to the weight of him. His taste spread across my tongue... salty, musky, raw.

He didn't say anything at first. Just breathed.

I took more of his cock in my mouth sliding across my tongue, inch by inch, until my jaw stretched and my lips were wrapped around the whole shaft. I started moving slow bobs, up and down, letting my tongue swirl around him as I went.

Then, a groan. "Fuck, pledge."

His voice was rough, quiet. Like it took effort not to moan louder.

I found a rhythm. Used my hands at the base. Let my spit slide down the shaft. The slurping sound filled the room, wet and slippery. His hips stayed still, but his cock throbbed deeper in my mouth with every stroke.

"Shit," he muttered. "Where'd a pledge like you learn this?"

I pulled off just long enough to gasp, "Never done this before, sir..."

But in my head: Of course I couldn't admit I used to be a total cocksucker in high school. That I'd made upperclassmen moan in locker rooms. That I'd turned more than a few straight boys just by knowing how to use my mouth.

"First time?" Jace smirked. "Could've fooled me, pledge."

I dove back down, mouth stretched around him, drool dripping down my chin now. He was thick and hot and leaking across my tongue, and I was losing myself in it.

His abs tensed. His thighs flexed. I could tell he was getting close. But he didn't warn me. No breathy I'm about to or fuck, take it. Just a sudden twitch. A pulse. Then another.

And without any warning....

He came.

Thick, hot spurts. Not a gentle leak. It hit the back of my throat and kept coming. Salty. Messy. Strong. I gagged, swallowed, tried to breathe, but he kept spilling his cum inside me like he'd been saving it for me. My lips stayed sealed around him, my tongue still moving, working through every last drop.

His body trembled under me. One deep breath. Then another.

I was still licking when he spoke. "I didn't hear a thank you, pledge."

My mouth was full. My throat ached. I swallowed again, trying to catch my breath. Then, quiet and raw, "Thank you, Brother Jace."

His hand slid down and ruffled my hair. "Atta boy."

He sat up slowly, cock softening against his thigh as he pulled his shorts back up. Still breathing hard. Still smirking like I'd just passed some secret test.

"When a brother asks," he said, voice cool, "you always obey."

"Yes, sir."

He headed for the door, stopping just once before leaving.

"Oh and rest up, pledge," he said over his shoulder. "Tomorrow's task? You're gonna need all your energy for that."

He shut the door behind him.

And I lay there.... dizzy, aching, throat raw, mouth still slick.... wondering what the fuck I'd signed up for.

I woke up giggling.

I don't even know why.

Maybe it was the way my throat still ached. Or how my lips still felt slick. Maybe it was because I could still taste him. Jace. Brother Jace. His cum.

Jesus. I sucked off the hottest guy on campus. In my bed. And not just sucked him off, I swallowed every fucking drop. Like some obedient little pledge.

I turned over, pillow still damp from sweat and spit. My jaw was sore. My ass was sore, even though he never fucked me. I was just that sensitive. That used.

And I liked it.

Then I saw it.

Another note.

Folded neatly on my desk chair, weighted down by... clothes?

I sat up and padded over barefoot, my body still sticky under the covers. I unfolded the note, heart already picking up pace.

"Wear only this for Task #2. Downstairs. Living room. Now. -- Brother Jace."

What "clothes" meant turned out to be a tiny red skirt. That's it. No shirt. No underwear. Just this soft, slinky little thing that looked more like a belt than a piece of clothing.

I held it up in disbelief. Laughed. Gulped. Then put it on.

It barely covered anything. I felt like if I bent over, even slightly, my whole ass would hang out.

Maybe that was the point.

When I opened my door and stepped into the hallway, I swear the house smelled like last night. Beer. Sweat. Weed. Boys. The place was a wreck. Cups tipped over. Pizza boxes stacked. Someone's socks were stuck to the wall.

And it was dirtier than I remembered.

Which made sense when I saw the little whiteboard on the kitchen door. Three words:

"House Maid - Troy."

Shit.

They were making me clean. Like some slutty little pledge in a fuck-me skirt with no underwear.

I walked into the living room and found a pair of yellow rubber gloves, a spray bottle, and a list.

"Clean the floors.

Wipe the counters.

Do the dishes.

Don't complain.

Look cute.

Ass out.

Mouth shut.

Use your tongue if needed."

It wasn't signed. But the handwriting looked like Brett's.

I knelt down and started picking up trash. Empty Solo cups. Half-eaten wings. Crumpled napkins with stuff I didn't want to identify.

My ass was up. The skirt barely stayed down when I bent forward. I caught a glimpse of myself in the TV screen and yeah, I looked like some dumb little housemaid in a porn parody. Hair messy. No shirt. Skirt riding up my cheeks.

Then I heard footsteps.

Lucas.

"Morning, sunshine," he grinned, walking past me in gym shorts and no shirt, glistening from a workout. His abs were unreal. His cock bounced behind the fabric like it wanted to be seen.

"You missed a spot."

He stopped. Turned. Then stepped behind me and pressed his crotch against the back of my head.

The bulge was hard. Hot. He rubbed it across my scalp slowly like it was a sponge and I was part of the cleaning crew.

I flinched. He laughed.

"Relax, pledge. Just breaking you in."

He walked off, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge like nothing had happened.

Ten minutes later, I was scrubbing the floor in the hallway, down on all fours when another pair of feet stopped in front of me.

Joshua.

He wore gray sweats. No underwear, clearly. The outline of his cock was unmistakable and hard.

He didn't speak. He just pulled it out.

His cock slapped my cheek once. Then again. Lazy. Purposeful. Like I was just part of his morning routine.

I stayed still. My face burned. My cock throbbed.

Then he poured something from a glass into his hand. Orange juice?

He let it drip down his shaft. "Clean it," he muttered.

I leaned forward. Without hesitation. Tongue out. Dragged it slowly up the side of his cock. Tangy. Cold. His hand pushed my head down once, gentle but firm. My lips wrapped around the head of his cock just long enough to taste the juice. Just long enough for him to groan.

Then he pulled away. "Better clean the floor too, pledge," he said, tucking himself back in like he didn't just use my face. "Wouldn't want it to get sticky."

I kept scrubbing. Knees aching. Ass exposed. Tongue slightly out of my mouth as I wiped spots they'd pointed to.

Humiliation never felt so fucking erotic.

Later, I found myself bent under the coffee table, trying to reach a crumb-filled corner when Brett walked by eating yogurt. He paused, spoon in his mouth.

"Fuck, that skirt's looks so slutty on you," he said, crouching next to me. "Bet you're leaking down your thigh already."

He didn't wait for an answer. He reached under the table and pulled my skirt up. Full ass exposed. His finger dragged down my crack. I whimpered.

He dipped the yogurt spoon, licked it once, then flicked a little glob right onto my ass. Cold. Sticky. "Oops. Clean that too."

I think I heard him moan under his breath.

"Fuckin' love this game," Brett muttered, standing and heading upstairs.

By late afternoon, the house sparkled. I didn't. I was on my knees again, wiping under the bar stools when I saw a pair of sneakers.

Chase.

The President.

I froze. Didn't even look up.

He said nothing for a long moment.

Then he crouched down next to me.

"Looks like you're fitting in nicely," he said, voice smooth and deep. "Jace said you took his cock like a champ. last night"

I didn't answer.

"Tomorrow," he said, leaning in close to my ear. "Tomorrow we test your limits"

My breath hitched.

He smiled.

"Don't touch yourself tonight. That's an order."

Then he stood and walked off.

Leaving me hard, aching, humiliated... and absolutely desperate for more.