The Maiden of Aphrodite’s Revenge

The house was easy to find, on a lonely road a mile out of town. The perimeter of the large three-story colonial was bathed in halogen-blue security light. No other houses for a quarter mile and a good five miles from Emory University, which seemed strange for a frat-house. The stylish logo was outlined in neon above the large oak front door. "Omega Theta Delta Epsilon Pi," Kenneth said to himself, matching the sign to his illegible hand writing. "Them bitches have lots of money for a place like this."

Ken's old Chevy Malibu puttered into the surprisingly large asphalt parking lot, where ten or so expensive vehicles sat unattended. He rolled into a space at the far end, before the engine conked out in a cloud of blue smoke. His old and beat-up car stuck out in the parking lot as much as the house did in the middle of the cotton fields. The young girl he spoke with said they would tip him well if they hired him, that he would receive one-hundred dollars just to come out and talk with them about what they needed done.

The wraparound porch reminded him of a picture given to him as a child before his father passed away; that of a large Georgian mansion where, as family folk lore had it, he was almost killed for being a young black man in a white neighborhood at night. The doorbell chimed that old Big-Ben song, as his momma used to call it, and a short, attractive blonde girl answered the door. She was a pretty thing dressed in a medical outfit and introduced herself as Jackie. Upon entering the vestibule she asked Ken to take his shoes off and put on house slippers, which he did without objection. They proceeded directly to the dining room, where he was greeted by two other young women.

"You ladies sure have a fine house here. Mahogany hardwood floors and antiques is not what I expected in a frat-house," he said with a smile.

Brittney, who was unsurprisingly also white, reminded Ken of Courtney Cox from the series Friends, except she was tall, perhaps close to six feet, and heavy around the waist. To her right sat a girl named Tracy, a nineteen year old beauty. She was the best looking of the three, her large breasts pressing tightly against her button-down blouse, revealing a cleavage he found difficult to overlook. Sliding a hundred dollar bill across the cherry-wood table, Brittney took on formal poise as if ready to conduct the interview. Ken put the bill in his top pocket and leaned toward the table ready to hear what she had to say.

"Well, Kenneth, Jackie spoke with you on the phone and was purposefully vague because our sorority is a closed group- very private- and we don't want to spread rumors. What we do here is of our own concern. Do you understand that? What we talk about here can go not further than this room?"

"I understand that," confirmed Kenneth."What I'm looking for is honest work, no troubles."

"Good. Now, we had a last minute cancellation and need to hire a man of certain attributes for our initiation party tomorrow night. My understanding is that you are available, should the terms be reasonable?" Brittany continued, having received a nod from Ken that he was, indeed, free."Well, then, what we are looking for is a well-endowed man to have sex with our new recruits. This year there are four of them and your identity, and theirs, shall remain autonomous."

Ken interrupted, "Wait a minute. You want me to have sex for money? I never done that before. You might have the wrong man for that. I thought you might want some household repairs done or something like that." He shook his head, surprised by their offer. "As you see, I ain't no ladies man."

He noticed both Jackie and Tracy nodded in agreement, whereas Brittney maintained her business attitude and pressed forward.

"Kenneth, you come highly recommended and, provided our intelligence is sound, we shall offer you five hundred dollars for four hours work. That's one-hundred and twenty-five dollars an hour. How does that sound to you?"

Jokingly, Tracy added, "But the back door sticks a little, if you might..."

Jackie chimed in, saying, "I spoke with an old girlfriend of yours. Her name is Saundra. She said you weren't all that good in bed, but you had a really big dick." Reading the expression of hurt on his face, she apologized with a quick, "Sorry."

"Now, you date a girl for four months, you'd expect she'd a said I was good in the sack because she kept coming back," said Ken.

"Well," said Brittany, "considering the short notice we won't hold your performance against you. What we need, as part of our initiation of these sophomores, is your large penis. That is, if you have one. That's all. I assume you do?" After a brief pause, and not receiving a reply, she continued, "And there is also another requirement."

Eyes opening wide, as if waiting for the catch, Kenneth raised an eyebrow.

Tracy said, "We have this device."

"It's a restraint," said Jackie. "One we use for this purpose only."

"It hides your identity and you cannot see the girls," Brittany said. "It's sort of a specialized restraint made for us many, many years ago. It's what they call an iron madden, except it's constructed of steel,wood and silver. It's surprisingly comfortable."

"I don't know about that," said Ken shaking his head. "One of those things where I can't move like I'm in hand cuffs? Wow, not at all sure about that at all," said Ken apprehensively.

"Perhaps we should show you," said Tracy beginning to get up, but she was gently pushed back down by Brittany.

Looking at the girls, Ken thought about his girlfriend, Tina, at home, that she would kill him if he took this gig. He'd just have to tell her. There was no hiding from her. She would find out because she always found out about his questionable antics.

"Look girls, it's like this. I need the money, but this all feels so peculiar to me. With all you fine-bread white girls wanting some black meat. You'll have to find somebody else, I think."

"Don't get me wrong," said Brittany, "Your dick is not for me. I'm a lesbian, if you must know. Jackie is a doctoral student. So, it's not for us."

"I don't care. I'll tell you. I'm one of the sophomores. I'm the one that has to do it," Tracy said as she pressed her chest against the table so Ken could get a good look at her breasts.

Ken thought he'd be a fool to pass up on slipping his dick into such a bodacious white girl. Truth be known, Kenneth had never been with a white woman. Not so much as he had any aversion to such a thing as it was that an opportunity never presented itself. What's more, he'd never had sex with a woman as attractive as Tracy either, so cute was she. He considered himself far short of pretty-boy status, as did most of the women he'd dated.

"Tell you what," said Brittany with confidence. "How about I make Tracy here give you a blow job. Would that make things easier for you? That way, we could make sure you're qualified for what we need and no harm done."

Ken pressed against his top shirt pocket, feeling the crisp bill crinkle at his touch. A hundred bucks and a blow job from Tracy. How could he say no? And what Tina didn't know... He resolved to spend part of the six hundred bucks on her.

"Alright, then. Let's do it. Show me this thing first."

***

The basement of the house was stupendously luxuriant. The woodwork was so well crafted Kenneth couldn't believe his eyes. Fine walnut, cheery and ebony woods of the finest caliber. The fireplace hearth, a piece of fine art in and of itself, displayed carved scenes of cherubs and nymphs frolicking in a cotton field behind the house, whose image was outlined in semiprecious stones. They walked into a room set with church pews facing a thick translucent glass alter and stone table, with a large brass and iron throne set behind it.

"Man-o-man, what do we have here?" asked Kenneth rhetorically. "This place is a piece of art like some kind of a ancient church. I don't know any carpenters living today who could do such fine work."

Brittany said, "This room was finished in 1934. There are three other similar rooms at our satellite sorority houses at other universities of substance. This is where we conduct our ritual practices, including indoctrination."

"That's amazing!" said Kenneth.

"You should feel honored we are showing this to you. Few men have been permitted to do so, including the men we contract with to help us preform certain rituals," Brittany said with reverence.

The group of four moved to the far side of the room where an exquisitely crafted coffin, or so it looked at first glance, sat atop a granite table, its top an amalgam of layered burl redwood, flame walnut and coco-bolo woods. Brittany pressed a button under the table and the paneled top slowly slid open toward the bottom, folding itself into a box at the base, revealing a red-velvet lined interior. Another press of a button and the floor of the receptacle gently raised and lowered, showing how the device could raise and lower its occupant accordingly.

Leaning next to the table was an an elaborately etched insert constructed of quarter-inch sterling silver. Brittany and Jackie together picked up the plate and placed it snugly onto the top of the eight-sided casket. The piece covered slightly more than the lower three-quarters of the opening. Once in place and latched, the polished metal lit the ceiling with reflected light, and more clearly displayed a Coke-can sized hole.

Noticing Ken's expression, Jackie said, "This is where the penis sticks out."

The other open space was obviously where the man's head would be, Kenneth assumed.

"Wait a minute now. This is creepy as fuck. You want me to get into a coffin and stick my dick through that hole? Is that the trip? You want me to get into that thing?" A sense of trepidation ran through him, thinking how these girls could bury him alive, if they had the druthers to do so. "I don't think so. That's not for me." He fervently shook his head.

Brittany said, " It's completely safe, Kenneth. There is noting to be afraid of: it's not a coffin. It's a well crafted restraint, is all. Your arms and legs aren't bound, but there is little room to move."

Tracy chimed in. "There is another cut-out for a girl and I had to lay in there last week. It was actually quite comfortable and orgasmic, in fact. I had..."

Brittany cut her off with the wave of her hand, showing her disapproval concerning her disclosure.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do this. I've always been fearful of tight places," said Kenneth waiving his hands to show his disdain.

Realizing his genuine apprehension, Brittany listened intently while Kenneth went on about his childhood experience being stuck in a closet for hours on end. She concluded it was a matter of money. Money ruled the world and woman who had it could manipulate just about any situation, just about any man with it.

Directing her order to Tracy, Brittany said sternly, "Fetch me my purse on the kitchen table. And be quick about it," to which her charge nodded and ran out of the room and up the stairs as if her life depended upon it. "I can see we might need to negotiate better terms for you, Kenneth. This is such a short-order request, and we do need your help in maintaining our event schedule. You see, we have alumni members flying in to attend and it would be quite expensive to reschedule it. We do need your help with this matter."

The two women stood quietly looking at Kenneth, whose eyes were taking in the embellished woodwork, antique furniture and decorative carpets that made the room so unique. The sound of Tracy's return down the stairs directed their attention to the door, where she rushed in, her large breasts heaving, Brittany's purse in hand.

"Now, the offer on the table is," said Brittany sounding shrewd, " we agree to give you five-hundred dollars for..."

"And a blow-job," Tracy inserted in haste.

"Yes, and a blow job from our adorable pledge after we are done here, for four hours of you time. And, from what I understand, you refuse to lay there and have four beautiful girls ride you? Oh, and of course there will be a few breaks in between, so let me ask you, how much do you need?"

"Well, don't know. You see, I have a girlfriend and I'd have to lie to her and then I'm not even sure if I could stay hard, laying in a coffin like that..."

"One thousand dollars? Would that do it? To lay in this beautifully crafted box. The silver is tempered and dulled around the edges so it certainly won't cut you. What could you do with an extra thousand?" asked Brittany.

Shaking his head, Ken replied, "And then there is being in front of all those women. I ain't never been naked in front of a group of folks, you see."

"Fifteen-hundred?"

Her resolute stare into his eyes was disconcerting. She was a powerful woman and Kenneth felt intimidated. He lightly kicked the side of the table and fidgeted with his clasped hands.

"I'm not sure I could preform under such..."

"Two thousand dollars? That's probably more than you make in a month of odd jobs, isn't it?" She placed her arms across her chest and moved her weight onto one leg.

"That is a lot of money, but I don't think I could."

"Alright then, say, three-thousand dollars? You could buy your girl a beautiful necklace for that price."

"Three-thousand dollars? You'd be willing to give me three thousand dollars?" asked Kenneth, his brow breaking out in sweat. "Are we talking cash?"

Brittany pulled a stack of hundred dollar bills from her purse and placed ten of them atop the shining silver insert.

"One thousand now, and the other two come the end of the evening. Take it and come back at eight PM tomorrow." Britney was determined to close the deal. "Just remember if you don't show up I'll give the two-thousand to somebody who will come and get it back from you."

The pile of money sat invitingly before Kenneth's hungry eyes. He shook his head seriously thinking about it. Feeling pressured and on the spot, he paced standing still as if a child in need of the restroom. He watched as Brittany counted out another stack of hundreds.

Brittany scowled. "Four thousand dollars. This is my final offer. Take it or not. Now is the time you must choose. Now, let me ask you; when was the last time you earned a thousand dollars an hour? Two now, and two later. What do you say?" A moment pause. "But there is one other thing I must ask for such a tidy sum. You'll have to wear this." She leaned under that table and held up a leather harnessed ball-gag. "I don't want you talking to the girls."

***

The Malibu made its way up the incline leading to the estate under duress, the engine knocking as if Ken had filled her up with low-octane fuel. Even a half-mile out, he could see the house was lit up like a Christmas tree, the colorful lights cutting through the humid dusk air in hues of cobalt, magenta and orange. The parking lot was full and he had to park alongside the road. His engine cut out before he could get it into park, creating a backfire that set an alarm off on the far end of the lot.

Walking to the back door, where he was instructed to find the stairway leading to the basement, Ken couldn't help but gawk at the large pool area surrounded by woman of many shapes, colors, sizes and age; some dressed in evening gowns and others in bikinis, yet others dressed in street clothes. Three muscular white men, dressed in only a bow ties and smiles, moved about the crowd of thirty women serving drinks.

A heavy-set black woman in her fifties named Trina met him at the stairs and directed him to the shower, where he would prepare and dress in a silk robe that reminded him of something a prize fighter would wear into the arena. He showered and dried himself off with a extremely soft high rag content towel and considered putting into his bag, flinching at his developing paunch reflection in the mirror.

"Are you a member of the sorority, Trina?"

"Hell no. I work here just like you. This here is a rich white-girl society, where it ain't down with the brothers or the sisters. Well, I seen one pretty black girl, is all." Her voice conveyed resentment and scorn for what Ken was about to do.

Trina escorted him to the chamber room, where Brittany, dressed in a sequenced-yellow evening gown that did little for her bulky frame, seemed relieved to see he was on time. They exchanged pleasantries while she and a butch-looking woman dressed in some kind of sacramental robe helped fit him into the modified coffin after they affixed the ball-gag into his mouth.

Kenneth felt his body rise mechanically, a hand guiding his limp penis through the aforementioned hole. The fit was tight and the cold metal against his chest sent a chill down his spine. He felt surprised at how comfortable the space actually was, the padding under him slightly arching his midsection. He could only move slightly. His arms at his sides, he tested the metal above him to see if he could remove it in a pinch. He could not. His legs were pinned by the cushions, so kicking up was all but impossible. All he could do was listen to murmur, and the sound of women on the stairs making their descent, gathering in the next room.

Tracy appeared above him, looking down at his gagged mouth. She inquired if he was comfortable, to which he shook his head an affirmative. She reached behind his head and fit a strap around his forehead, making it imposable for him to move his head, then folded down a translucent red veil across his face. The additional restriction lent itself to a growing sense of claustrophobic seclusion and he felt concerned he might not be able to achieve an erection. So, he tried to relax, thinking about the money he was earning while lying there naked doing absolutely nothing.

"Oh my god, he's huge and isn't even hard yet," said an unfamiliar voice next to Tracy.

"I told you. I had to measure it last night. He is eight and three quarter inches long and seven inches thick, once he gets hard. You'll see. And he came so much I couldn't help but laugh myself silly. I mean, like three times as much as Brian. I wonder if big dicks cum more that little dicks all of the time."

"I wish I was a pledge again. Last year the guy was so small the girls all complained to Reverend Mother," said the envious voice.

"Well, at least you get to make him hard. Let me show you what he likes," said Tracy.

Kenneth felt a warm mouth engulf his penis, and he knew it was Tracy, who was a naturally excellent cock sucker. It took her fifteen minutes to make him come last night. He hoped she didn't work him over too hard before the event got started.

"Wow. He is getting hard so fast. Look at that sucker grow. Let me try."

Tracy's mouth was replaced by two small, cold hands, followed by a mouth nowhere near as talented. He grew rock harder just the same.

"I can barely fit the head in my mouth," said the stranger, who definitely required additional cock sucking instruction.

Hearing him moan, Tracy leaned over Ken, her face skewed and muted by the shroud. She had on a yellow hood, which Ken summarized was a part of her pledge robe.

She whispered, "I'm not supposed to talk to you, Ken, but I want you to know it's me, Tracy. I love your cock, by the way. Hope I'm up first."

"He's ready," said the other girl. "I'm going to put it on him."

"We are going to put a cock-ring on you, so if you come you'll still stay hard, or so they say. At least that's what Pamela said." Tracy disappeared from his limited sight, and he heard her say, "Make the strap real tight like this," followed by the two girls working on fitting the cock-ring correctly, which was actually a convoluted leather loop of sorts.

Ken moaned, wanting to say it was too tight. He'd never had to wear a cock-ring, but he knew instinctively it was too tight, that it would totally restrict his blood flow. The girls ignored him, thinking he was enjoying the sensation. His cock felt so hard now it could burst.