by Veronica Sky
“Trent… put it in…”
He lifted my legs, which looked so long in those nude heels, over his muscular shoulders and positioned himself with his knees on the edge of the bed. Grasping my ankles together, he lifted my ass just enough off the bed, so he could align the swollen head of his dick with his other hand. He rubbed the head of his penis up and down my slit until it was covered in my juices, and thrust short and quick into my pussy.
I gasped loudly as my vagina stretched to accommodate the top of his cock, and moaned encouragingly as his shaft began to smoothly and rhythmically fuck me senseless. Trent was on fire today, with an animal lust that could only have come from the excitement of a winning day. My hand reached for his hard, muscular butt, which I could feel clenching at each stroke. He was hitting all the right spots, filling me up and making unbelievably pleasurable contact with my clit each time he arched forward. His abs pressed against the back of my thighs and his balls slapped against my ass as he drove deeper and deeper.
“Fuck…I’m close.” I could feel Trent’s balls tightening when they pressed against me, his shaft now buried to the depths of my vagina and hitting my cervix. It was a sensation of both excruciating sensitivity and pleasure. It was ecstasy.
I bucked my hips off the bed to edge him the slightest bit deeper into me and slow his thrusting. The waves of pleasure were building, and I felt a shiver conduct, like electricity, up and down my spine, to my fingertips grasping the sheets, up my thighs and calves folded over me by Trent’s shoulder, all the way to my toes, curling up past my ears.
“Oh…yes…” was all I could say as my mind froze, I tightened around Trent’s cock, and my body trembled uncontrollably.
It was only half-way through my orgasm that Trent finally climaxed. He drove deep to my cervix, exhaled loudly, and I felt his cum pump inside me, spilling out of my vulva and onto my ass.
He withdrew, collapsing on the bed beside me, and I remembered vividly why I was so attracted to him, besides the obvious. I wasn’t a weak person and neither was he. I was attracted to how much he didn’t care: his arrogance and entitlement, though maybe substitutes for confidence, gave off the unmistakable impression that he didn’t need anyone, he was just fine on his own if it came to it. So when we fucked like that, close, deep, experiencing the same thing together, it all had that much more meaning and that much more power. Maybe we’d never really had emotional intimacy, and maybe we never would. But the sex was amazing, so real and vivid and palpable compared to the superficial world we both played our parts in. Of course, I was just finishing high school, we were both only 18, and I was more than fine with that.
I had to take a quick rinse in Trent’s shower as his load kept spilling out of me. Quickly adjusting my wrinkled skirt, my breasts, and my just-fucked hair, I followed Trent out of the bedroom. He paused, gave me a deep kiss, and led me downstairs where the party was just really picking up. The house was packed, and we went out to the front of the property to get some air as the weed clouds were really starting to choke up the inside of the house.
“Oh, fuck,” I exclaimed loud enough for anyone outside to hear.
My dad’s Mercedes was parked right in front of me. I realized I hadn’t checked my messages or texts from him after blowing off the 5:00 pickup. Usually that wasn’t a big deal, since he had more important things to do than worry about my whereabouts—why was he here?
“Oh fuck.” Now it was Trent’s turn. His dad’s car was parked behind my dad’s.
We both watched as our fathers exited their vehicles and together approached the front door. I was secretly hoping Trent’s dad would be so pissed at the party that it would completely side-line my being MIA this whole evening. Sadly that wasn’t the case.
“Jane,” my dad nervously began, pulling at his collar, once again drenched in sweat even though it was evening, “there’s something we need to talk about. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
“Daddy, I—”
“Jane, you should listen to what your father has to say,” Trent’s dad interjected rather surprisingly. I had thought his first order of business would be to give Trent hell over the state of the house, which even from here reeked of marijuana.
“What’s going on?” I asked, sensing this was all related to the weirdness in the morning.
As I stared at Mr. Burke and then my dad, they gave each other a strange look, my dad more nervous than Mr. Burke who seemed to give some kind of go-ahead with a decisive nod.
“It’s serious, Jane. Nothing’s your fault (I guess it wasn’t about the 5:00 thing). Here, just get in the car with me.”
As I walked to the car, I heard Trent asking his dad something like “is it time, now? It happened?”
What the fuck?
“You know the rules about collateral,” Mr. Burke said loud enough that I could definitely be sure.
I got into the passenger side, my dad taking a moment to adjust himself before he lowered his head and began: “You know AOM, Alpha Omega Management, Mr. Donovan’s firm.”
“You do business with them, that thing in Asia with the government seizing assets. You told mommy and me about that over dinner months ago.”
“AOM is also something else. Or, rather,” my dad ran his hands through his greasy hair, “AOM is actually…it’s an organization that has been around for a very long time.”
“Okay…” This was just getting weirder.
“I’m part of this organization. Not the financial conglomerate: that’s just cover for something much more powerful, something that’s been around for longer than any government, any country—”
“But what does that have to do with me, with anything.”
“—longer than any kind of organization you can think of. They’ve always controlled things, behind the scenes, with religion when it started, and now with money. I’m part of it, Trent’s dad is, Trent will be, and most of the fathers of people at your school are.”
This was crazy. What the hell was this organization, some kind of rich guys fraternity?
“That’s how I got my start. I wouldn’t have been this successful if it wasn’t for them. I was smart, great at restructuring complex financial problems, top of my class at Harvard Business, but I would have been stuck on some rung of the corporate ladder at a big investment bank. Instead, I have this huge corporate advisement solutions firm, and I can write a $10 million check to your school. They made it possible.”
“Whose they?”
“The Alpha Omega Society.”
“Dad,” I said seriously since the whole daddy tone no longer seemed appropriate, “what happened, did you mess up?”
“Yeah. I messed up. Things fell through in Asia. AOM had unnecessary confrontation with many of governments there. There were investigations and risk of exposure. When someone joins the Alpha Omega Society, they’re usually automatically nominated as a male heir of a member in good standing, and then vetted and inducted. I came out of nowhere. First generation involves collateral. My first-born daughter.”
“What?”
“I thought we could get away. I was going to pick you up at 5:00; your mother would meet us at the airport. I had everything planned out, but they were obviously watching. James Donovan and Ed Burke found me, and they made it very clear this happens or we lose everything. I don’t care about that, but I don’t think they would stop there. No lose ends.”
“Wait.” I was collateral. My head was spinning. Why did my dad do this? What did he want me to do? “What happens? What needs to happen?”
“We…They have rituals.”
“Like some Masonic thing?”
“Alpha Omega goes beyond that. They are the oldest and by far the most influential. They work through other organizations, influencing politics, finance, even the surreptitious dealings of other secret societies. But it all started with basic human control: rituals, rites, and sex.”
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br /> “Sex?!” I was beyond the usual embarrassment of even saying the word in front of my dad. “What are they asking me to do?”
“They’re demanding you…” my dad was really sweating now, having trouble making out his words, “…take part in a ritual. They want to teach me and my family obedience and the sacred control of the Society. Jane, they’ll take everything. You’ll have to run. No school, no money, no car, no designer clothes—”
“You’re asking your daughter to have sex with a cult to save yourself.”
“I’m asking you to make a decision. Everything, Jane.”
“Would they kill me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fuck you.”
I ran out of the car, no idea to where. My dad had given me everything I ever asked for, but he knew all along I was hanging in the balance. It was his fault, he messed up, and I was the one who paid for it. Paid for it by being violated sexually by some old perverts in their stupid, grown-up fraternity. I can’t believe he had nothing else to say: no alternative solution, no “Jane… run for it, I’ll hold them off as long as I can” type thing. I knew this wasn’t a Liam Neeson movie or anything, but seriously?
Trent. He wouldn’t put up with this stupid shit. I’d ask him to sort it out. He could talk to his father. They could do whatever they wanted to my dad, though I felt bad even thinking that. I felt horrible for him. But the situation he put his family in was just shocking. My dad was a self-made man, but I had lost all respect I had for him.
I ran straight into Trent, burying my head in his chest, feeling a small sense of comfort.
“Trent. My dad messed up. There’s this whole thing, your dad’s involved, and they want to use me. A bunch of old guys want to have sex with me. I didn’t do anything. Trent. Say something.”
Trent put his hands on my shoulders and looked me right in the eyes, speaking deliberately: “Jane. You need to do this.”
“What the hell!” Fuck. Right, male heirs and all. He knew. “Trent. You do understand that they are asking me to have sex with them, ritual sex. Multiple men.”
“Jane, I’m being vetted right now. I’m eighteen, and it’s time for me to take my place. My family’s been part of Alpha Omega all the way back to Alfred the Great and Edmund Ironside. Do you know what kind of legacy that is?”
Edmund fucking Ironside. This had to be a joke. “Trent. Do you want me to have sex with a bunch of other guys?” I asked directly.
He hesitated, but answered: “I never thought your dad would mess this up. I never thought you would know about Alpha Omega. Female family members can’t know. Jane… At this point. I mean, you know we can’t be together.”
“Whatever your dad is telling you, it’s bull shit. Trent, they’re the ones doing this weird shit. Not us. They won’t do anything to you. Stand up to this—”
“Jane.” Trent looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry.”
I literally had no one. What was I supposed to do? Ask Nicole for help? Sarah? Laura? (“Hey, in addition to my math homework, could you use that nerd brain of yours to get me out of having sex with old guys in hoods and capes so I can keep all my pretty shit.”) And, even though I didn’t want to admit it, I liked my pretty shit. I mean, how the hell was I supposed to go run away and live with no money.
My dad’s money was the only way I could even get into college with my crappy grades. It paid for my car, my lifestyle, and my hobbies: mostly experimenting with high-end makeup, shopping, and attending fashion shows around the world in my dad’s private jet. Even my dream of one day creating a clothing line that reflected the artistic ideals and harmonies of my favorite artwork and architecture—well, that certainly required the seed money my dad would be more than happy to provide.
But sex? I might be a bit of a slut sometimes, but I wasn’t a whore. I mean, I guess I had always made good use of men’s money. I never, ever, even entertained the idea that I would need to work a job, except that clothing line idea. And it wasn’t like I was doing this for some kind of gain. More like it came out of the blue, and I needed to do this just to keep my life. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t deserve this. It was a one-time thing, to forget, to keep things going. I mean, I was never going to forgive Trent, or my dad. But, I could learn to live with this, whereas I wasn’t sure I could learn to live poor.
Not to mention that dream today. I’d been so confused and angry, I hadn’t even made the obvious connection—I mean, this whole thing had been presaged this morning. Which means it might involve Mr. Donovan. Which, all things considered, was a silver lining of sorts. This would be weird. But it wasn’t like I had a boyfriend or anything, and the whole idea was strangely starting to turn me on, and I might get to have sex with Mr. Donovan, and I did love sex. So, alright then. I turned to face Mr. Burke.
“I’ll do it.”
I waited outside as they called for the limousine. My dad stood next to Mr. Burke, his head bowed low, not making eyes contact with anyone. It was clear that, putting all the cultish, ritualistic weirdness aside for a moment, this was all about setting an example of the submission owed to the Society, to humiliate my father. Would they make him watch?
I shuddered. I would take the money that I needed to do what I wanted with my life, but I vowed then and there to never have anything to do with them. No more daddy’s girl, no visiting from college next year, no more guys like Trent. I just had to pay the one time price right now—the price for having been born into money and opportunity, the price I would never have paid if I knew about it, but now that I didn’t know any other way to live…well, there wasn’t any going back now.
The limousine was comfortable. Mr. Burke sat in the front with the chauffeur, while the man who had shown up with the limo went in my dad’s car, probably to make sure my dad didn’t take off. I was offered some warm tea, with what I guessed was a shot of brandy and some lemon. My nerves had calmed, my heart was beating normally again, and—all things considered—I was feeling pretty good.
“Where are we going?” I asked, not really expecting an answer, but it was better than the silence.
The privacy partition went up. The intercom crackled, and Mr. Burke’s voice filled the passenger cabin: “Jane. You are breathing in a harmless mix of halogenated ethers. You’re going to take a nap. As you can imagine these proceedings have a secretive nature and…”
My eyes opened. I was wearing a comfortable robe, lying down in an even more comfortable bed. I stood up and walked to the full-size mirror in the dark-red, marbleized wallpaper room. My makeup had been professionally done, my fingers and toes French manicured, and my hair straightened with a glossy shine. I was almost naked under the robe: just my lacy panties and bra. My shoes had been replaced with a tall, strappy pair of black heels with a golden flame, or leaf, or something across the top. Whatever the motif is, the heels were beautiful, and I recognized they were from a sold-out collection of an extremely expensive Italian designer. I couldn’t even get ahold of these. Maybe I’d get to keep the shoes?
I shrugged off the robe. Standing in the golden black heels and vivid colors of my bra and panties, surrounded by the rich hues of the red marble walls, I did feel dramatically sexual. Everything was on edge, vibrant and full of restless energy, like compacted embers quietly smoldering, ready and willing to set aflame. I was like one of those priestesses in the ancient religions, readied for the sacrifice. A vestal virgin…maybe they actually thought I was a virgin—sorry to disappoint guys.
There was a note on the dresser telling me to disrobe and proceed down the hallway to the light. To the light. The overall tone here was definitely cultish.
Everything looked like my dream. I could see this building was somewhere in the city as the skyline peeked through the high windows. I walked along the burgundy carpeting, stone walls to ei
ther side of the hallway, and crystal chandeliers with tiny LED lights. At the end of the hall, I stepped out into a huge, cavernous stone atrium. Given Manhattan real estate prices, I could tell these guys were loaded. Seven hunched figures sat above the rest, watching from a higher level. Everyone was wearing the same dark brown robe and hood. I was ushered to the etched circle-around-the-dot from my dream, and on the wall across from me was the seven-like figure with two orbs. The man in front of me took off his hood, and the rest followed. It was Mr. Donovan.
“We’re gathered here to observe the sacred power of the sexual,” he began. “For millennia, Alpha Omega has kept order in this world. We have watched over the rise of civilization in Mesopotamia, the beginning and the end of empires, and the advent of commercial globalism in the modern world. We recognize that, at heart, man is a sexual creature. That his sexual nature must be ordered by the systems of his betters. That a man must be to the Society as a woman is to a man. We are here to celebrate submission. We bow our heads before knowledge—from the mudutu of our Sumarian founders to the gnosis of our forefathers—which is sacred, above all gods and above all men. We are keepers of this knowledge.”
I looked around me and noticed every single one of the robed men was contemplatively bowing their heads as the speech dragged on. They really believed this crap.
“Alpha Omega understand that the sexual act is a celebration of man’s potency and a recognition of his communion with the transcendent knowledge. Sex is power. Tonight we have reason to exert our power. Kevin Durant—”
I turned and saw a hunched figure between two bigger men. His hands were tied behind his back, and the two guards held him close. My dad.