Chapter 2: A Glimpse into the Future

Realization hit me the moment my flesh lifted off her face as if an electric current surged through my veins, igniting a spark inside me. My hips seemed to take on a mind of their own, thrusting rhythmically, relentlessly, as if driven by some primal force. The sensation was exquisite, overwhelming; it felt as if I was being pulled in a hundred different directions at once, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

There she was, beneath me, her eyes glazed over in the haze of passion and anger. I was still thrusting up on her delicate face without care. My breath came in ragged gasps as I clutched my shoulders, urging to push her face deeper inside me of the moisture sounds as I lifted. The softness of her face, the yielding warm feel of the full extent her face enveloped me deep inside the vulva to the vaginal opening, couldn’t help but lose myself in the sensation.

As I lay there, exhausted but satisfied, the pool desk slowly began to spin. Recovering from the moment high, I slipped a little back off the face between the legs. To observe the aftermath of the face plastered with the substance was nearly unrecognizable by the amount that came from me. While trying to regain my breath, I spread my legs to get better access to wipe away the goo from around the eyes and mouth. When the last person I wanted to see again was standing before me with a huge grin, Jennifer.

The world seemed to slow down as I took in the harsh reality of my actions. One moment, a frenzy of anger directed solely at Jennifer, next, I was sitting there, panting heavily, my gaze fixed on the girl who was supposed to be my sorority sponsor and friend. Jennifer. She was holding my purse and the bag containing my clothes, a look of disgust and betrayal etched on my face. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of anger wash over me as I didn’t see any remorse for what she had done.

I repositioned my hips again until I could feel the face beneath her nose in the vulva folds and covered the mouth with my anus sealing away the ability to breathe. I had that face of life in my hand of control over life. My anger toward Jennifer hours ago, who had publicly degraded me in the campus square by calling me worthless and insignificant, all because I asked her the simple question if she had ever considered locked inside these chairs like the face I was riding, as I was shouting at her.

The woman who had been concealed inside this lounge chair since the early down that morning gasped as I sat smack on her face. I held her there, my weight pinning her down, as I took control of her breath. I repositioned my hips again until I could feel the warm air on the anus. Seal away the ability to breathe, had that enclosed face that life in my hand; I controlled its destiny. The anger was uncontrollable as I moved back to position the mouth on my vulva and allowed myself to breathe normally. I saw others holding banners that read staff and various sororities’ names and their position on the armbands toward the chair and face I had been riding hard.

Air-filled sweat and adrenaline, and witnessing the most senior members of the sorority speaking with Jennifer about the accounts of her degrading me earlier in a vocal conversational discussion with them. How she labeled me as worthless and unimportant and how she expressed a preference to see me confined to the same chair that I have been enduring relentlessly. It was difficult for her to breathe.

I shifted my gaze to where Jennifer had stood moments ago, her face contorted in terror. Observing her walk towards a door marked “staff only” past the armband ladies, a sense of pity welled up in me as I empathized with her predicament. Turning my anger inward, I blamed myself for directing my frustration towards the vulnerable face beneath me, sealed inside the lounge chair.

Had I thought more clearly and resisted impulsive actions, I would have returned to the pool deck where Jennifer was seated earlier. Instead of placing my body on the female face that Jennifer had used, I occupied chair four, showing concern about her well-being. As I continued working my hips how Jennifer wanted to control me, I watched the other guys pull out of their lounge chairs, hosed down, and ushered to the dressing room. While I felt a surge in besting them, my victory was short-lived, realizing those in charge of the sorority on Jennifer’s disrespectful behavior toward me.

I pull off the face covered in layers of gooey substance, the lady’s face perfectly formed in the lounge chair’s opening. What if Jennifer was right about me? I had the desire to switch places with the guy in chair four earlier when I pushed his face deep inside me, the best orgasm up to that point in life. Nothing compared to the countless more, enduring what I had subjected that poor lady’s face to for nearly two hours, crossed my mind.

Looking through her eyes, obstructed by the gunk, I contemplated being in her position – bound, strapped, unable to escape, with only my face exposed for any woman to use as they pleased, just like they had done to that lady. I acknowledged my wish to endure the same suffering I had put on her, seeking some semblance of peace in the end, as Jennifer accused me of wanting. As I started thrusting my hips, my focus shifted to the timed lock on the lower part of the VIP chair being closed.

What caught my attention wasn’t just the lock clicking shut with the remote in her hand but the addition of two twisty ties securing it closed. Shifting to my side again off the lady’s face, which I had continued to abuse, I realized I would eventually have to get up. Only two chairs with someone inside were chair three, which I had been sitting on, and the VIP chair lower half locked. The other open chairs guys that were strapped inside emptied and were in the process of being cleaned. As agreed, once the pool area is closed. I could continue exerting my anger upon the face inside chair three until after the VIP chair locked.

As I worked to lift my leg over, I was asked to stop and looked down at the covered face through the opening, a blank expression staring back at me. My leg back after being told to continue to plant my body down on the face, in front of me stood the ladies who had escorted Jennifer out of the pool area earlier. One of them introduced herself as April Huston, Delta Tau Chi charter student president.

Sara explained, “All of us discussed it, and it’s evident from how you’ve been continuing, increasing your rhythm again, not finished yet as we saw from the cameras. We’ve decided to adjust the time lock for another hour.” Just as I began to object, I felt the confined lady’s teeth forcefully sink into me for the first time. Changing my response to a hesitant additional “One...” Suggested with a firmer grip bite on my vulva, “Could you set it for an additional hour?” The grip became more painful. Grinning through clenched teeth, I asked, “How long can I stay here,” Then released the hold on me, pending the answer.

I saw all of them chuckling as I slipped off, sore all over my body and from where the teeth were clamping down. I began the task of rubbing away the remnants of the intimate encounter and started cleaning around her eyes with my hands. As I was engrossed in this, Sara said, “Get back on that face, and you can ride it until an hour before midnight.” She and some others walked away to talk with a lady who had just entered clothed.

Exhaustion enveloped me as I noticed the clothed figure in a position of authority, evidently responsible for the sorority on campus, sitting down after closing the top of the second chair while the others occupied the fourth one and gathered around me. The clothed lady introduced herself as Dr. Lorraine Atkins and applauded me for the mental mistreatment I had to suffer through earlier at the hands of Jennifer.

I pulled off from the poor lady’s face, and the consequence was a relentless physical punishment, with my body enduring the scrutiny of the additional mess I had inadvertently caused. Gratefulness washed over me when a kind soul handed me a spray bottle and several towels, underscoring the visible toll this intense experience had exacted. The wear and tear on both my body and the female face were glaring – it looked as though they had weathered the storm of something profound, all a result of my actions.

Amidst the aftermath, Dr. Atkins provided explicit instructions, emphasizing the importance of focusing solely on wiping the eye area. Following her guidance, I promptly returned, resuming my thrusting with an unwavering commitment. Her directive was accompanied by reassurance, dismissing any concerns about the sole female who willingly submitted the required documents and underwent screening in that death box. Despite being the only one to do so willingly, she was destined to be used to death at the mercy of the sorority women.

It was at that moment, fueled by a growing rage within me, that I pushed my body up, locking eyes with Dr. Atkins. With determination in my gaze, I declared, “I will be your second female to go inside.” The intensity of my words matched the force with which I dropped all my weight down on that face, causing the entire structure to shake. The lady had been securely bound and sealed inside, and even seconds after expressing those words, I felt no regret for a single syllable that had escaped my mouth.

The room fell into a momentary hush as my declaration hung in the air. Dr. Atkins, still maintaining eye contact, registered a mixture of surprise and intrigue. The gravity of my words seemed to resonate, casting a ripple through the atmosphere. The others, who had been engaged in various tasks, paused to observe the unfolding scene.

As the realization of what I had just committed to settled in, the rage within me persisted, a blazing fire that refused to be extinguished. I remained steadfast, not allowing a shred of doubt to cloud my determination. The seconds ticked by, and the room waited in suspense for Dr. Atkins’ response.

Breaking the silence, she slowly nodded, a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken pact formed between us. Her gaze conveyed a hint of approval mixed with a challenge as if she understood the depth of my commitment. It was a pivotal moment, a choice that marked a divergence from the ordinary.

With a composed demeanor, Dr. Atkins then directed the others to resume their tasks, as if what had transpired was just a brief interruption. The room returned to its previous state of controlled chaos, and each member of the sorority absorbed in their duties.

I, however, felt a surge of empowerment, an acknowledgment of the bold step I had taken. The promise I made hung in the air, a palpable force that altered the dynamics of the sorority’s rituals. As I continued to wipe the eye area, I couldn’t ignore the anticipation building within me for the path I had willingly chosen, fueled by a fierce determination that refused to be quelled.

She rose from her seat and pulled open the lid of chair four just as I lifted myself from the face, having felt a tongue and a rush of warm air beneath me. After speaking with some other ladies, conversations I couldn’t hear, she turned to me and walked away. April approached me, her voice carrying a mix of concern and curiosity, “Is this the path you want to take?”

“In the morning,” she continued, “you’ll need to check out of our junior quarters and move into one of the other halls around campus as an incoming student here. If you do decide to proceed, it could take over a month or longer, especially considering you’re a female. The University leadership faced numerous challenges when Zoe desired to proceed inside as she is now. We will provide you with the necessary paperwork and guide you through the screening process.” With that, everyone, except for the several who were still in the pool enjoying the VIP chair, left the pool deck, leaving me to contemplate the significant decision ahead.

Now, a pivotal question emerged: did I want to become a part of the sorority, or did I consider withdrawing from the sorority berthing halls on campus? The decision hung in the balance, contingent on my choice, if I opted to continue with the sorority and become a member, with a crucial note. Similar to Zoe’s situation a year ago, should I decide to apply to put my life inside the concealed death chamber lounge chair that I was currently enjoying, I would need to withdraw and move out of the sorority quarters at that moment.

As I pulled back off Zoe’s face, now covered again with goo from my actions, I expressed my decision to move out the next day after getting up. Inquiring about the time, I learned it was about an hour from midnight, and I resumed my workout pattern on her face. This was cut short when I was handed two water bottles with straws and other nutritional items. Grateful for their gesture and consideration, I thanked everyone and then shared them with Zoe through the small opening in the seat, as the physical and emotional strain became palpable.