Sorority Sisters 2025, Act 3
Copyright© 2025 by Emily Wendling
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Lisa Little was blackmailed by a mysterious man and her roommate Jennifer Gray. They turned her into their sex slave.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Ma Fa Mult Blackmail Coercion NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Slavery Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction School DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Rough Sadistic Spanking Gang Bang Group Sex Interracial White Female Anal Sex Double Penetration Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys
Lisa Little stood in the elevator of her dorm building. Her AirPods were in her ears, and she was listening to Sabrina Carpenter’s “Juno”. Her lips were quietly singing along. The music hid her mental turmoil. Her thoughts raced the way they had for weeks relentlessly, jagged, and loud. It was only when the elevator dinged, and the solid metal doors slid open to the third floor that Lisa noticed the small, nondescript metal box sitting neatly in front of her door.
No one else was in the hallway. Her roommate, thankfully, was gone. She was probably off at another Greek life event. Her roommate was always trying to get Lisa to join the sorority. The pressure to join the sorority had become exhausting. Lisa had spent the past three weeks faking smiles, dodging events, and deflecting questions.
She stared at the box. No postage. No return address. Just her name, scribbled in black., Lisa’s stomach tightened. She stepped over it and unlocked her door. She then nudged the box inside with her foot. She dropped her backpack onto the bed and peeled off her hoodie. She then shuffled to the sink in their shared bathroom. Cold water on her face helped, if only for a moment. It dulled the edge of the panic, gave her something else to feel besides guilt.
As the water dripped from her cheeks, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, not from crying. Not anymore. She had not cried since the memorial. Since she stood there in a stiff dress and shook hands with the families of Maya and Jordan. She lied with her eyes every time she said, “I’m so sorry.”
They were gone. Two of her close friends. Dead from pills she gave them. She thought a pill was just a couple of harmless Oxy. She had scored it from someone at a college party. Someone who claimed to be reliable.
“It’s clean. Just a chill buzz. You’ll love it.” He had said
But they did not love it. They would never even wake up. Lisa had no idea the pills were laced with fentanyl. She did not take any herself that night. She had a paper due the next morning. They were begging for the pills. To help them with their anxiety, their insomnia. A shared thing between friends. A small act of care, she had thought.
She did not know. But that did not matter. Lisa stared into her reflection. Her mother’s eyes looked back at her. A cold, focused, ready to dissect the truth. That was what Mary Little did. That was what the Chief Justice of California’s Supreme Court had built her name on: truth, accountability, no compromise. And Lisa was hiding from all three.
Lisa’s parents’ influence and financial resources enabled her to secure a larger, more luxurious dormitory. The luxury dorms featured a small kitchen and shared bathroom, reserved for wealthy and legacy students. The cost was $30,000 per semester. She turned off the tap and patted her face dry. Then, slowly, she walked back into the room and stared at the box. She sat down on the edge of the bed and placed the box on her lap. It was not very heavy. The tape used to seal it was uneven, indicating a hurried application. She thought about calling someone. Her mom? Absolutely not. Not yet. Maybe never. The police? She was not sure. The idea had danced through her head so many times over the past weeks it felt like a song on loop.
The police still did not know where the drugs had come from. At least, not publicly. The investigation was ongoing. There were whispers about the pills being counterfeit, tainted with fentanyl. She had read a CNN article earlier that morning. An analyst said whoever distributed the pills could face up to 100 years in prison. A hundred years. She had not slept right since reading that. The fear twisted inside her like barbed wire.
But maybe if she came forward, told the police everything. How it was an accident. How she had not known. Maybe it would make a difference. Maybe they would show mercy. Maybe ... Her fingers hovered over the tape. Lisa peeled it back slowly. Inside the box was a folded piece of notebook paper on top of something wrapped in tissue. Her heart thumped once, hard, as she picked up the note. There were only four words, printed in blocky handwriting. “We know it was you.” Lisa dropped the paper like it burned.
Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she was immobile, unable to process her thoughts. Subsequently, her gaze returned to the box. Inside the box, there was a USB-drive. A large folded envelop. The envelope felt like it had documents and another USB-drive in there. A burner cell phone. A small paper with instructions written on it. Her Hands were shaking.
Her first instinct was to call her mom. However, she stopped herself. She could already hear her mother’s voice, cold and sharp like a blade: “Lisa, what have you done?” And this time, she would not be talking about the pills. She would be talking about the conspiracy. The silence. The cowardice. Lisa’s hands clenched around the instructions.
She had been trying to pretend it was all going to pass. That if she just kept her head down, no one would ever find out. But someone had found out. Someone knew. And they were watching. Maybe it was the guy from the party. Whoever it was, they were not going to stay quiet. Lisa read the instructions; her body felt tired. Her roommate still was not home. After conflicting thoughts and actions for thirty minutes, she picked up the burner cellphone and called the mysterious number she was given. Her hands were trembling.
Lisa sat with her legs crossed on the floor of her dormitory, with an open box situated next to her. Lisa’s hand shook as she stared at the contact number she had just dialed. It was a burner phone number. It had no name and no ID. It just had digits scribbled on a slip of paper inside the box. Her heart thudded violently against her ribs, a panicked drumbeat of dread as she waited for someone to pick up. After two rings, the line connected. She expected a voice filled with rage or accusation, maybe even a twisted kind of satisfaction. Instead, the man on the other end spoke in a calm, emotionless tone. Cold. Efficient. Like someone who had done this before.
“I see you got the package.” He said.
Lisa’s throat was dry.
“Who are you?” She said.
“That’s not important. What matters is what you’re going to do next.” The man replied.
Lisa gripped the phone tighter.
“What do you want from me?” Lisa said in a soft voice.
“There’s a USB drive in the box. You haven’t looked at it yet, have you?” The man said.
Lisa’s eyes darted into the open box beside her.
“No,” she said quietly.
“Plug it in. There’s a folder. Open it.”
Lisa got her laptop and plugged in the USB-drive. On the USB-drive were security surveillance videos of her and her friends. There were also screenshots of her friend’s phone sending text that they acknowledged that Lisa was bringing the “good stuff”.
“If I sent this to the police, your life would be over. Your mother’s too. Not just headlines, Lisa. Legacy destroying stuff. Chief Justice Mary Little’s daughter dealing illegal opioids? Two dead kids? It would be her biggest scandal. She would have to resign. Maybe even face charges herself if someone spins it right. No one survives that kind of fallout.” The man said.
Lisa could not speak. She was paralyzed with fear. The man stated that Lisa’s mother had not ruled properly on the last few appeals cases, and she was refusing to rule as requested in the current case. The man on the phone wanted Lisa to help blackmail her mother into resigning the position. Lisa refused. The man spoke to Lisa in a stern manner, outlining severe repercussions for both her and her mother if she did not comply. The preferable outcome would be for her mother to resign, thus resolving the situation.
Conversely, the worst case scenario involves both of them facing extended imprisonment. The man explained to Lisa, she should go through the contents in the envelope, and the other USB-drive. He suggested Lisa call him back if she changes her mind. Lisa felt the bile rise in her throat. She paced the room, gripping the burner phone so tightly her knuckles whitened.
She had a general understanding of her mother’s significance to the state. Mary was not merely a judge; she was a fundamental part of California’s legal system. She was an advocate for progressive justice, and a representation of unwavering integrity in an environment focused on image. Her rulings had shaped precedent. Her dissents had drawn national praise. She had become a rising star even in federal legal circles. Some whispered about a possible Supreme Court nomination if a Democrat were to win the presidency in the next election cycle.
Lisa paced harder, her thoughts spiraling. How could she do this? How could she look her mother in the eye and lie to her, to blackmail her? The woman who raised her, who lectured her on responsibility and consequences, who stood for truth even when it hurt? And now Lisa was supposed to force her out of the job? Lisa went through the brown envelope that was in the box. It contained another USB-drive, this one was colored pink, and a bunch of photos.
Her breath caught in her throat. The first photo had a writing of freshman year at Yale. The photo showed her mother dancing at a party. Her mother looked like she was having a good time. The next photo made Lisa gasp. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the lewd photograph. Cursive writing on the photograph said, “Wild Mary”. There was her mother, her beautiful, prim and proper mother, with a huge white cock stretching her lips obscenely. Saliva covered the surrounding area of her mouth. The cock was so large it caused Mary’s left cheek to bulge obscenely. She had her eyes closed, and had an expression of pure, lustful ecstasy.
“Oh my god,” Lisa whispered, her heart racing.
She felt a sickening mix of revulsion and disgust. However, Lisa could not stop looking. Her mother’s facial features closely resembled her own. Except that Mary had a massive cock violating her mouth. Lisa gulped in shock and repulsion. She looked at it for a few more seconds and then she pulled out the next photograph. The graphic image showed her mother in an unspeakably degraded act.
Lisa moved to the next photo. It showed Lisa’s mother laying on top of a man. Another man behind her. Her legs spread wide. Two large cocks violated her most intimate holes simultaneously. One cock disappeared into her anus, stretching her tight rear entrance obscenely. Another pistoned in and out of her gaping pussy, the wet squelching sounds almost audible in Lisa’s mind. Her mother’s hands gripped two more erect cocks, stroking them vigorously as if desperate to pleasure their owners.
But the most humiliating part of the photo was her mother’s oral cavity. Once again, her mouth was stretched wide, engulfing a third massive cock. Her mouth sealed tight around the giant cock. The cock plunged in and out of her convulsing throat. Saliva leaked from the corners of her mouth, matting her hair and dripping onto her heaving breasts. The back of the photograph, in red ink, wrote “Sophomore Year at Yale”. Lisa wanted to destroy the photographs. To scream. To pretend this was all just a nightmare.
Lisa was stunned, it’s possible these were photoshopped, Lisa thought. However, they appeared to be original polaroid, and on the back there was a date on them too. Lisa looked at the next photo. This one showed Lisa’s mother sprawled naked on a bed. Her legs bent up and spread obscenely wide. She had two fingers buried knuckle deep in her gaping pussy. The pink flesh stretched obscenely around the invading fingers.
Her other hand pulled the vagina lips aside to fully expose herself to the camera. Lisa could see every intimate detail of her mother’s pussy. The glistening folds. The swollen clit. But the most shocking aspect was how her mom was holding herself open. Her pussy gaped enormously. The elastic walls straining to their absolute limit, revealing the wet pink cavern within. It looked like a monstrous pink tunnel. It stretched far beyond what seemed humanly possible.
Her mother’s expression was one of utter depravity. The mother’s eyes partially opened and hazy with lust. Her tongue was drooping out in a lewd pant. She looked like a horny slut, desperate to be filled and used. The caption on the photo read: “Mary’s pussy, all stretched out and ready for cocks.”
Fresh tears spilled down Lisa’s cheeks. Lisa’s childhood illusions of her mother’s purity shattered into a million sickening pieces. Each photo seemed to violate Lisa’s innocence further, forcing her to confront a side of her mom she’d never known. The next photo made Lisa’s stomach churn. It was a closeup shot of her mother in a humiliating and degrading position. Her mother was on her hands and knees, face pressed to the carpet, buttocks high in the air. Both of her hands were gripping her buttocks, stretching them wide apart to expose her gaping anus.
The photo was a close up of her mom’s gaping, bloody anus. The once tight anus was stretched obscenely wide, the wrinkled flesh red and angry. A thick, viscous, large quantity of sperm leaked from her ravaged hole. The glistening, semi opaque substance could only be one thing, the remnants of a rough anal cream pie. Lisa could clearly see the thick creamy globs of sperm clinging to her mother’s torn anus. Some of it already dripping down to join the growing puddle below. The sheer volume of it. The brutal force with which it must have been pumped into her, made Lisa’s stomach sway. Her mother looked utterly used and defiled, her most intimate place violated and ruined.
Lisa’s hands trembled. She was feeling lightheaded. The next photograph was a closeup of her mother’s face. The photo zoomed in so tightly that her mother’s face filled almost the entire frame. Lisa’s heart raced as she took in the utterly depraved sight before her. Her mother’s tongue, long and slimy with spit, was thrust deep into another woman’s wide open pussy. The photo captured the moment just as her mom’s tongue reached the hilt, buried in the swollen folds and stretched hole.
Saliva and pussy juices covered the side of her mother’s face. The cheek, her chin, even dripping from her nose. Her eyes were squeezed shut, focused on the lewd act she was performing. Lisa could imagine a few strands of saliva connected from her lips to the other woman’s crotch as she pulled back briefly before plunging in again, slurping and lapping noisily at the offered cunt.