Initiation

Sororities were overrated, Diana learned, a near-growl building in the back of her throat. Arms crossed over her chest (which was branded with an Alpha Sigma Omega v-neck shirt in a particular shade of purple that made the girl feel too docile for her liking), she stood before the booming frat house of Delta Sigma Kappa. She could feel the bass of the stereos inside the party boom under her shoes. “Great,” she muttered when she caught a frat stumbling outside whom she recognized as a loser from her photography elective named Sanguine. He was giggling to himself, red Solo cup sloshing with a foreign content whose scent stuck to his clothes. His face was contorting between throwing up whatever he ate for the day on the filthy, tee-peed, streamer infested lawn or passing out.

“Oi! Aren’t chu that chick from, uh, pho-toe-graf-ee? Chiane, right?”

“Sure,” Diana responded back, not wanting to be associated with Sanguine at all. It was already bad enough that the more sober frat guys and their dates were shooting her glares-- and she wasn’t even inside the house yet.

Sanguine, clueless to Diana’s desire to end the conversation, went bug-eyed at the royal purple and gold t-shirt she desperately tried to hide under her crossed arms. “Woah, y-you’re one of those Alpha-Hoes?!” To make matters worse, he presented her and the atrocity of a t-shirt to the party-goers on the lawn and porch that weren’t paying her any attention before by pointing directly at her, some of the contents in his Solo cup spilling off the edge.

Flustered, Diana muttered, “Sanguine, can we not talk about his right here?” She was damn lucky that Sanguine was sober enough to stop and rub the back of his neck sheepishly, complemented with an obnoxiously loud laugh that made Diana’s irritation further.

“Sorry, babe,” he giggled, taking a swig from his cup. Then, “You wanna come inside? The party is fucked up! Like, the best I’ve ever planned. Totally. 110%. Completely--” Sanguine yelped painfully when he was clocked in the back of the head by an uninviting looking guy with red hair. “Fuck, Dagon, what was that for?!”

“You’re annoying the hell out of this chick, you dumbass cuntmuch,” the guy (who Diana presumed was Dagon) growled. Sanguine pouted and mumbled complaints under his breath, rubbing the back of his head. Dagon then directed his glare towards Diana, and that was when she became incredibly aware of his Delta Sig Kap varsity hoodie. “Why the fuck is one of those Alpha-Bitches at our event?”

The calamity Diana found herself in began all because she and London have tried to one-up each other since childhood and the campus of Daedra University outlawed sorority and fraternity hazing. Both freshmen despised the idea of sororities because they were pretentious and a waste of money spent in pledging. However, London challenged Diana to see how far they could go with one of the former most haze-heavy sororities in the country. Naturally, Diana wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The rules were simple. Each had to complete as many initiations as possible, one-upping the other in the process. At first, it was basic “non-hazing” tasks like London being forced to take Hircine shopping as if she was some kind of maid (paying for all of the bitch’s clothes, too) and Diana having to cook a full course meal for Namira to the senior’s tastes. The challenge only intensified once the sorority’s rival, Delta Sigma Kappa, became involved.

It was very uncommon for a sorority to be rivaled with a fraternity. Wren, a girl initiating with Diana and London, explained to them that the rivalry began in the 1930’s when women began attending more colleges with men and a battle of the sexes erupted. However, the feud faded once gender roles were no longer a factor in the 1980’s; after that, it turned into the Alphas purposely going out of their way to be bitchy and the Deltas responding accordingly with extra doses of testosterone.

London’s last initiation task was to seduce and make out with Delta front runner DJ Tompson. Diana actually felt bad for London; the girl had her eye on Tompson since day one of college at the club fair. Then it only worsened once they started interacting more in-and-out of class since London was on cheer squad and DJ was the starting running back on the football team. Diana already knew that the Alphas had someone record it happening with the intent to post it on Instagram and slut-shame London. If it wasn’t for Diana’s harsh threat to beat the everlasting shit out of the girl who recorded it, London’s reputation would have been in shambles.

Diana, on the other hand, was not so lucky. She bet the girl she threatened snitched to the higher ups and this was her punishment. Her task was to crash a Delta Sig Kappa party in an Alpha t-shirt, locate front-runner Molag Bal, and give him a lap dance. Easy, right?

“I genuinely feel horrible for you.” London told her at lunch earlier that day after Diana was given her assignment.

“Why?” Diana asked in between bites of the chicken burrito she bought at the campus food truck. “It’s not like I’m completely humiliating myself.” London gave her a look of disbelief. “Okay, I am. Totally.”

“You are,” London agreed with a sigh, closing up her textbook on microeconomics, one of the classes dumped on her because she was too lazy to take it in high school. She looked like she was struggling to read it, most likely due to her awful dyslexia. That was one of the few things she and Diana could bond over because they both had dyslexia with a sprinkle of ADHD on top of it. “But that’s not why I feel bad. You’ve heard the stories about Bal, right? My sister, Lucy, was the one who told me cuz she has pretty much all of her classes with him.”

“They showed me pics of him,” Diana shrugged, unlocking her phone to go to her text messages and flash the “subtle” pictures taken of Molag while in class, walking the campus with friends, at sporting events, and other things. He wasn’t a bad looking guy; the only turn-offs for Diana initially were the goat-eyes and razor sharp teeth, but she could tolerate the tattoos. Diana figured that he was one of those types of people who liked to “transform” or “augment” their bodies as experiments to see how far they could take the art of plastic surgery. She actually felt like the additions completed Molag. Of course, she wouldn’t say it out loud. “If you’re talking about the horizontal pupils and teeth, I think I can manage.”

“No. Not that. It’s just…” London looked around to make sure they weren’t being listened to. Believing they were safe, she leaned in and whispered, “they call him the ‘Lord of Domination’ here.”

“Lord of wha-- what the fuck kind of nickname is that?” Diana rolled her eyes and laughed. “What? Is he some kind of sexual freak? Does he like BDSM? Is he a rapist? God complex? Sadistic asshole?”

Instead of answering to one, London said completely serious, “Yes.” Diana’s smile fell and so did her hands which held her burrito.

“...Oh.”

And so now Diana was back here, trying to get into the party and knock out her initiation whilst bypassing an angry Dagon rumbling before her and the drunken idiot behind him, Sanguine. Without thinking much of it, Diana blurted out, “Vile invited me.”

Both Dagon and Sanguine blinked.

“Clavicus Vile?” Sanguine slurred. “You two know each other?”

“He’s in my Calc class,” she answered quickly, and it was true. “Him and Sheogorath. They suggested I come.” Both assholes were in calculus 101 with her and she always knew they were Deltas because they wore their varsity jackets, caps, and tees with dignity. Clavicus was a lil’ bitch that sat to her left, always showing her pictures of his ugly ass dog (Diana was an acute cat person), snoring in class, or trying to go through her phone when she wasn’t looking. Sheogorath sat on her right, laughing at dumbass Cow Chop or Filthy Frank videos that made absolutely no sense to her. It was the perfect half-truth because she figured neither would remember if they asked her to come or not.

“Clavicus and Sheogorath are stupid ass cocklickers,” Dagon hissed. “They would invite someone like you, huh?”

“Yes,” Diana answered, trying to keep her rising anger in check. “Are they here?” She wanted to speed up the conversation because now the bystanders watching them were muttering things about Diana sleeping with the idiots mentioned.

“They are,” Sanguine answered. “Or at least Clavicus is. Sheo’s probably fucking around cuz I haven’t seen him all day. I’ll take you to Clav though.”

“That would be good,” Diana agreed, following Sanguine who twirled around and began skipping up the porch steps and going through the door that led into the frat house. She could feel Dagon’s eyes on them as he followed closely behind her, mostly to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. She couldn’t blame him. She had heard that some Alphas, Boethiah and Meridia, were fucking with the Delta house not too long ago. Maybe a couple days before. She remembered that Molag came outside and dealt with them himself from what London and Wren told her. Then they were walking with limps like cripples then excommunicated from the sorority for “submitting” to Molag Bal, whatever that meant. Diana hoped she wouldn’t find out that night.

She was a bit nervous that she would find more backlash against her inside the frat house once more people spotted her shirt (which she found clashed greatly with the overwhelming crimson and black.) Instead, she found herself greeted with mostly stares and a couple glares. The stares, she gathered, were of frats checking her out and Diana realized that she chose the wrong day to wear shorts that only stopped at her mid-thigh.

She nearly lost Sanguine in the thick crowds of drinking, dancing college students if it wasn’t for Dagon taking her wrist tightly and dragging her through. Even though it hurt more than it needed to, Diana quietly muttered, “thanks,” which she thought would have been swallowed by the music, but Dagon’s grip on her wrist loosened somewhat.

The party itself was jumping, too much for Diana. Her best friend from home, Quinn (bless her) used to drag her to local frat parties in their senior year of high school. Diana only enjoyed herself when Quinn put a Solo cup in her hands, but they stopped going when Diana’s mom, Bella, caught them sneaking home past curfew smelling like cheap booze and then she beat the whites from their eyes. Diana never expected herself to come back to another frat party. She wished that Quinn was with her, but she went to a different college across county in the Unnamed City. From what Diana heard, she made friends with a strange group consisting of a half-blind, half-deaf Latina girl, an alcoholic, a jewish kid with PTSD, and a standoffish bookworm. Diana wished she was there with them.

Dagon and Sanguine wove her through the dance floor until they walked through the closed doors into the kitchen. Diana almost hissed at the bright lights, contrast to the lights in the rest of the frat house. In there, people were talking and drinking normally, despite the booming of the bass in the other room and the loud thumps that shook the ceiling upstairs which Diana assumed was the bedrooms. To her luck, she spotted Molag sitting on the couch that was obviously pushed into the kitchen for the comfort of its patrons. He and Clavicus were talking to each other, Clavicus with that triggering, shit-eating smirk on his face while leaning over the head of the couch. Both wore Delta varsity jackets, however Molag’s fell down his shoulders a bit, opening up his chest and revealing his tatted shoulders. He was more muscular than the pictures portrayed, but it wasn’t an overwhelming amount of flesh. Still, Diana felt as if Moag could snap her in half like a twig if he were in the mood.

Clavicus caught her staring at them before Sanguine or Dagon could alert them of her presence. “DiDi!” Clavicus beamed, waving at her with a wild arm. “I didn’t know you were into these kinds of events! Why the Alpha tee though?” Suddenly all eyes in the kitchen were on her and the talking hushed. Diana really wished she could curl up and hide. Molag’s horizontal stare made the tension in the room grow all the more thick.

“You were looking at me like you wanted something.” Molag spoke. Diana nearly double-took at the tremor in his voice. He sounded like the Devil incarnate. “So? What do you want, DiDi?” There was a purr in his voice that brought a hint of a blush to her cheeks which she corrected with a pokerface. The frats and girls, on the other hand began laughing at her, some muttering things about her being Molag’s next conquest. She still didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean.

“Firstly,” Sanguine interrupted with a cracking voice on account of his case of the hiccups, “her name is Chiane. Fuckin’ get it right fuckers!”

“Actually,” Diana countered, her irritation beginning to show, “Diana Yilmaz. Not Chiane and especially not DiDi.” She didn’t care that her name was now out in the open right before she would humiliate herself. Her mother taught her that recovery from bullshit was key if she wanted to survive in this world.

“Well then,” Clavicus muttered.

“Rude,” Sanguine pouted. Ignoring the both of them, Diana swallowed heavily.

“And on behalf of Alpha Sigma Omega, I’ve come to apologize for the earlier incident with our women along with the other issues we have started in the past.”

Molag raised an eyebrow, clearly in disbelief that the sorority would send a messenger to make so-called peace between themselves and Delta Sigma Kappa.

“Oh?” Molag smirked, leaning forward in his seat causing Diana to subconsciously want to take a step back or two.

Lessening the strain in her throat, Diana forced out in between grit teeth, “I have come to service you with a dance, courtesy of the Alpha Sigma Omega sisterhood.”

Molag snorted, uncrossing his legs and leaning back in the couch cushions. It didn’t help Diana’s growing anxiety that the room quieted so much either. “And how exactly is some inexperienced virgin supposed to satisfy me?”

Diana scowled, almost snarling at the level of offense that swarmed her. Did he honestly think she was some kind of joke? Yes, this was her irritation talking and she wasn’t supposed to take the job so seriously, but shit. At least make her feel less like a slut than this challenge was doing already. In response, Diana hissed back, “I’ll gladly take feedback once I’m done.”

“Well then,” Molag almost looked impressed. “Not a common way women throw themselves at me, but okay, I’ll take it.”

“Come on, Molag. Don’t pick on Diana. She seems so docile.” That fucking t-shirt.

“Don’t worry about her, Clavicus. She wouldn’t have come here in that stupid ass shirt if she didn’t feel like she could handle me.” Molag turned back to Diana, arms draping themselves over the head of the couch and legs spreading apart a bit more. “Let’s see it then.”

All around them, the unwanted audience cheered, sounding way too excited about this.

Diana gulped nervously and looked around, searching for some kind of moral support. But all she got was Clavicus and Sanguine looking like they were preparing themselves for a long session of masturbation and Dagon looking on with an uncaring gaze. Molag was no help. He was smirking, but there was a captivating look in his eyes that drew Diana in.

She was damn lucky for three things. One, her aunts Chelsea, Ehsan, and Ashley. Two, her friends Quinn and Alessandra. Three, she’s a dance minor and freestyling hip-hop choreography is her strong suit. The skills she took up from them were needed now more than ever to keep from making an absolute fool of herself once one of the audience members plugged their phone in the speaker sitting under one of the cabinets. Me & My Bitch by The Neighbourhood started to boom from the device. Diana was also fortunate that Quinn had an obsession with Jesse Rutherford’s voice.

Exhaling deeply and reminding herself that London’s face once Diana completed the initiation was the ultimate reward, Diana strut forward to Molag (thank her shorts) then spun around in front of him. With both hands bracing the couch, she lowered her hips before him until her ass ghosted over his crotch. Due to their close proximity only, Diana could hear Molag’s breath hitch with want-- just barely. Gyrating her hips to the lyrics “Pussy stay wet like she was mixed with Mexican,” Diana dipped down and languidly rolled her hips directly against Molag, the Delta giving her a breathy chuckle in return.

Diana could hear the faint cheers and cat calls in the background, but her focus was totally drawn on the tightening of Molag’s jeans and how she could feel him. To keep herself as composed as possible, she lifted herself off of him, Molag’s face dropping into an almost pissed off frown and a groan releasing from his lips that had a deep, rough sound that made a pool of arousal drip between her legs.

Diana liked feeling in control of a man that she never imagined dominating. Or maybe she really wasn’t doing that, but thinking that she was commanding him somewhat. She knew that he was only letting her be in control for the sake of the challenge; to see if she was worth his time.

Turning around, Diana crawled in between Molag’s legs, wrapping her arms around his neck so that she wouldn’t fall and then sensually rolling her hips some more with the beat, her right knee teasing friction at the boner. Molag’s hands gripped her ass and slapped it, resulting in Diana throwing her head back with a short mewl in pleasure. The crowd went wild in reaction and Diana could particularly hear Clavicus groan, “Holy fuck!” The idea of having Molag lose his senses and just take her on the couch was controlling Diana’s mind. Yes, she was a virgin and was never savvy to sex or dating, but with the way he firmly gripped her ass and the wetness down below, she certainly wouldn’t have minded trying.

“How do you like it so far?” Diana asked with a shaky voice, leaning in to whisper in Molag’s ear.

“Like you said, I’m only giving you feedback after this, Diana.” Molag wanted to regain control and watch her fall apart because his hands travelled up her shirt, fingers sliding under the straps of her bra. Diana bit her lip when imagining Molag ripping her shirt off her body, unhooking the damn flimsy thing, then taking one of her breasts (that were pressed against his neck, just below his chin) in his mouth, but caught herself and pushed off him to compose herself yet again. She needed to calm her nerves, fast, before she did something else she’d regret in front of this crowd.

Her eyes ran through the whooping audience of frats and girls until they fell on the iconic red Solo cup in Sanguine’s hands. Bingo.

Smirking at the bug-eyed, half-mast Delta, she made her way to him, shaking her hips and running her hands through her hair to the music. Those around Sanguine “ooo”-ed like middle schoolers when she approached him. Pulling the hair tie out from her long, dark brown hair, she let her mane fly freely as she placed a hand on Sanguine’s chest, pushing him against the counter and snaking her leg around his waist. Sanguine’s unoccupied hand immediately shot to Diana’s waist, but she merely shook her head and slapped it away. While he was distracted in his flushed, horny daze, Diana took the Solo cup from his hands then swallowed a long swig of the cheap beer he intoxicated himself with before slamming it back down on the counter, making Sanguine yelp. Chuckling at him, Diana leaned into his ear and whispered, “I owe you those landscapes in photography later,” before backing away and doing a reverse cartwheel backward to Molag, purposely showing off her flexibility. Obviously the crowd went crazy and Sanguine looked like he came messily in his shorts.

The song was halfway over. Now tipsy enough to be more daring since she was a lightweight at heart, Diana peeled her slightly sweaty, hideous Alpha t-shirt off from over her head, throwing it somewhere in the crowd, said crowd scrambling into a brawl against it. Diana’s Qu’ran tattoos, scars from years of childhood martial arts and athletics, and lacey black bra were all on display for the audience (who she presumed grew even larger due to the now wide-open kitchen door) and Molag.

Molag’s eyes ran all up and down her body and Diana was definitely pleased that the Delta liked what he saw. Her skin erupted in goosebumps from his gaze as well, but it only drove her to climb on top of Molag, forcing him to lay back on the couch so that she could turn, both now in the 69 position and grinding her ass in his face.

She could hear her counterpart growl in both lust and anger at that. Pride swelled in her chest. Laughing, Diana lifted her hips carefully and rolled off of Molag without stepping on his head in the process. She couldn’t help herself. She danced and rolled around on the ground like some kind of sexual freak (or her aunt Chelsea.) Frats clapped and hollered loudly and Diana heard Molag sit up from the leather creaking under him. Turning her head a bit to him, she smirked and sat on her knees at the edge of the couch, teasing her finger against his boner.

There was probably a minute left of the song. She didn’t expect Molag to lift her so roughly off the ground and plop her in his lap with her legs on either side of him, dangling off the head of the couch to the point that she had to hold herself up with her hands barely on the seat. Wide-eyed, Diana hurried and sat up, wrapping her arms around Molag’s neck to stay balanced.

The college student threw her head back with a moan when Molag thrust his hips upwards into her clothed pussy, hands firmly grasping her ass and spanking every now and then in between bucks. Deltas shouted in delight at the sight of Molag finally corrupting Diana’s body each thrust at a time. Molag laughed at her yelps and gasps sadistically, eyes locked on her bra straps falling ever so slowly down her shoulders and then flicking back to the flushed, ecstasy-wrought face.

“Look at you,” Molag grunted with a smirk similar to the one Diana flashed at him, “weren’t you the one in ‘control’ earlier? You should see yourself. Falling apart and submitting to me so gracefully. I was just making a wild guess when I said you were an inexperienced virgin. It’ll be so entertaining burying myself inside of you for real and listen to you scream my name and mine only.”

“Y-You’re,” a gasp, “c-crazy.” She cried out even louder. She felt like she was going to combust and, judging from the size and the rock hardness of Molag’s erection, so was he.

“That I won’t deny.” Now with his hands on her hips, he rocked her body into his thrusts, staying in sync with the chill conclusion of Me & My Bitch in the process. Diana dug her nails into Molag’s neck, eventually matching his rhythm on her own, bouncing her ass up and down in his lap almost desperately.

“I-I’m gonna explode…!” She howled, eyes clenching shut. Molag merely snickered, voice husky and laced with silenced moans at the way her ass felt against him and how hot she looked.

“Submit to me, Diana,” he commanded, rutting up into her heat faster and harder than ever. Diana gasped and her back arched with a loud, unsullied cry in pleasure when she came. She caught Molag’s expression shift for a split second from composed to the opposite when he bit his lip with a low groan, Diana feeling him shoot his load through their sets of clothing.

Diana breathlessly panted and she only realized that the song hand ended when a round of applause that could probably be heard throughout the campus quaked.

“Hell yeah!”

“Yes, bitch!”

“Not to bad, babe.”

“My turn next!”

Diana slowly came back to herself, suddenly feeling exposed and bare and high on adrenaline. People walked up to her and patted her on the back, telling her that she did a great job and it was the sexiest lap dance they had ever seen. And she was only some inexperienced virgin.

“Everybody to the dancefloor!” Clavicus shouted, everyone cheering in agreeance. Clavicus turned to Diana and winked. “You, too, DiDi. Calculus is gonna be way more fun now.” Clavicus laughed when Diana blushed all the way to her ears, then he turned and left out with Sanguine and Dagon (apparently Sanguine was the one who caught her shirt. He could keep it.)

Diana hesitantly turned back to Molag, trying her hardest not to look as nervous as she felt. She had been in fights with weapons against guys twice Molag’s size. There was nothing for her to be afraid of--

“Now.” Diana jumped. Son of a bitch. She blamed Molag’s Satan-sounding voice.

“Yes?” She responded with her usual deadpan. Molag grinned at her and yanked her down by the shoulders until they were face to face, their breaths intermingling. Diana’s blush came back with a vengeance.

“That’s cute. I like how you try not to show how weak you are. Your flaws couldn’t have been more obvious.” She scowled at the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Do you have a point or should I get off of your steadily hardening dick so I can get to my dorm and study Shakespeare?” Diana still hated the school for the fact that they stuck her dyslexic ass in a Shakespeare 101 class.

“Trust me, Alpha, believe it when I say that you don’t run your life anymore.” She blinked. So that was what it meant.

“...I did not submit to you.”

“Not your decision. You came. Quite gloriously might I add. Therefore you’re mine now.” He twirled his fingers in a long strand of her hair, smiling at the way it felt. “And I think you’ve also ranked up to my favorite toy. Do you know why?”

“I. Am. Not. Your’s.” Diana hissed with narrowed eyes, trying her hardest not to kick the shit out of him.

“And that’s exactly why.” Leaning in and whispering in her ear, he said, “because the more you fight, the more turned on I get.” Without another word, Molag lifted Diana up under her thighs, the girl squeaking and tightening her hold around his neck so that she wouldn’t lose her balance. “Now, let’s go give you that feedback, as promised.”

Needless to say, Diana had the best initiation task ever.

©SelfTitled, 2017