Chapter 4: Naked in College - Sigma Kappa Gamma

Sam and Gramma Kramer moved me directly into the Sigma Kappa Gamma house on the P-FIT campus on Monday, the second week of August. It was three weeks of pledge and freshman orientation before the beginning of the academic year, including the volleyball coach’s request that all volleyball players report, at that same time, for screening and evaluation.

Brenda was being moved into the freshman dormitory. Since it is across the P-FIT campus and a half-mile from sorority and fraternity row, as the crow flies, we would see little of each other socially unless Brenda pledged SKG, although we would be together on teams and in classes. I tried my best to convince her to pledge, but certain aspects of SKG life did not appeal to her.

I did not have the luxury of saying no. I was a legacy, endorsed by two graduate sisters, my adopted mother Sam Kramer and my former program mentor Jan Thayer. I had accepted the SKG athlete scholar scholarship for four years of tuition and room and board in the house.

The sign just inside the door of the SKG House made me giggle. “All Freshman pledges will leave their suitcases containing clothing in the great room on the first floor.” Sam had warned me that the three weeks of SKG pledging before the start of school required mandatory nudity. I was dressed in my summer tan, USDHEW NIS bracelet and my varsity lavaliere at the time and indicated I had no intention of deviating from my norm, now or anytime soon.

My pledge big sister met me in the foyer as I lugged my laptop and a duffel bag with bedding inside. Raluca Razkova was a junior and had been elected chapter vice-president and pledge mistress at the end of the last school year. “Pledge, where are your clothes?” she had bellowed at me. I showed her my bracelet. “Oh, you’re THAT one,” she had muttered and looked up to see Sam staring icily at her. Meekly, “Sister Samantha, it is so good to see you again; this is your daughter?”

“Raluca, let us get something straight from the beginning, Greta is my daughter, and I am still the SKG priestess chaplain, and while I do not expect my daughter to receive favor over other pledges as her mother and as her sister in SKG, we shall be sharing confidences. National has warned this house about its excesses, so let us not turn that warning into a probationary.” Sam smiled that smile of hers with the left side of her lip curled up, the one that said without words, young lady, you are due for a paddling. Apparently, Raluca had seen this look before. I know I had and my bottom was reddened only too recently when I ignored the LOOK.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” it amazed me that Raluca backed off so quickly, “Greta is a legacy, she will be fine, and she will be seen after.”

As politely as I could, I cleared my throat and said, “These bags are not getting any lighter. Could you show me where I’ll be staying so I can put them down?”

Raluca showed Sam and me through to the pledge dorm, a large open room with about fifteen beds in the attic. Seven of them were bunk beds and the one single had a note on it, “reserved for Pledge Mistress.” I grabbed a lower with a desk under a window and made up my bunk after plugging in the laptop and setting it up to the P-FIT network.

I soon learned that the balance of the pledge class were first-semester sophomores and had I not been a legacy and the scholarship awardee, I would have had to sit out freshman year as well. SKG wanted women with a bit more maturity than a typical first-semester freshman. The sorority rushed just before finals in the spring semester and sent bids out just after finals ended. Twenty bids were the norm, but judging from the extra space in the pledge dorm, a couple of beds had not been needed this year and there would be only fourteen of us.

Just after I’d said my goodbyes to Gramma (as a non SKG she could not enter the house) and Sam and assured them I would be fine, the intercom system blared, ‘Pledges to the Great Room.’

Fine is a relative term. Thirteen other girls were standing in the Great Room. All of them dressed in summer frocks or shorts and tops, all of them with their suitcases open. An SKG big sister was rooting through the clothing, pulling out offending garments and discarding them. The mantra from the big sisters was, ‘An SKG girl would rather be naked than be caught wearing this.’ It seemed to apply to everything from cotton bikini panties to bobby socks to cashmere sweaters.

It most certainly applied to flannel nightgowns, terry cloth robes, and pajamas of any material. I stood before Raluca, who was my big sister as well as the pledge mistress, and did my best to keep my eyes foreword and not burst out laughing. She looked at me and had an even tougher time; twice she lost it and actually laughed out loud.

Lynn Palmer, the chapter president, coughed and asked, “Sister Raluca, is there a reason for your levity?” Raluca responded, “Madam President, my pledge seems to be the only one who knows how to dress for this occasion and had absolutely nothing offensive in her luggage. May I use my pledge as the example for the other hopefuls, ma’am?”

“Most assuredly, Sister Raluca, you may display your pledge on the pledge stand,” Palmer gestured toward a riser about ten inches above the floor level of the Great Room.

Raluca looked like she was about to have a bit of fun when she told me to stand on the riser. She barked an order, one which she expected me to neither know nor follow in the hopes she might pledge discipline me. “POSITION ONE!” Immediately I drew myself upright, clasped my hands right over left behind my head and spread my legs at a forty-five-degree angle. Both Palmer and Razkova gasped audibly.

Palmer recovered first. “Here, you see the properly clothed and properly posed SKG pledge. Those of you who wish to continue your education in the ways of Sigma Kappa Gamma would be wise to mimic both the dress and the position of Sister Elect Greta.”

To me, she turned and said, “Position Two,” I dropped to my knees, legs still spread apart and hands still clasped behind my head. “Very well done, now three,” Palmer stated and my hands came from behind my neck and slid into position on my knees.

“It is easily seen that your mother is an SKG girl, Greta.” Lynn Palmer nodded and gave the command, “Release.”

With that, I rose and stood on the display riser. She had released me from posing positions but had not released me to resume my normal activities. Being submissive is sort of like playing Simon Says; when a Dom or Domme gives a command, you follow it until they give another command that relieves you of the first.

“Excellent,” Raluca said, “now come on down, Greta.”

I smiled. Raluca then asked me, “Would you care to tell the sister pledges why you are still on the platform?”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am with your permission,” a wave of the hand from Palmer indicated I had it,

“Sister Raluca was not she who commanded me to stand on the riser, Sister Lynn did so, by granting Sister Raluca the permission to pose me, therefore; unless Sister Lynn has delegated all authority to Sister Raluca I am still obedient to Sister Lynn’s original command.”

Lynn then stated, “I release you from all pledge obligations for the rest of this evening and until I personally reinstate them, on the condition that you assist Sister Raluca in the education of these Brendaarically clothed women, bringing them into the sister pledge status needed to continue their education. Oh, and please do come down from the riser.”

I stepped off and looked at the thirteen other girls. Even I could tell that the interaction between some of them with the big sisters assigned them led to five or six resignations tonight.

There was a ceremony each night before dinner where each pledge lit a candle bearing her name. If a girl failed to appear to light her candle, or if before dinner ended she or a big sister extinguished the flame, she was out.

Five girls simply repacked their clothing and left the house after watching me being put through my paces. Now there were nine. The other eight, still a bit confused, looked at me. With Sister Raluca’s permission, I explained, “For all pledge activities, we are required to be nude, until classes begin that will be enforced twenty-four/seven. As the semester goes along and we go in and out to classes, you will dress at the front door in the clothing your big sister permits you for that day and go to class. On your return, you will remove the clothing granted you and neatly fold it and return it to your pledge box outside your big sister’s bedroom door.” I turned to Raluca, “Do they have permission to speak and to ask questions, ma’am?”

“Yes, Pledge Greta, they may do so of you, as they were all to have read the SKG handbook before arriving today and I can see by some faces they are even undisciplined in that.”

“How do you know so much about this?” One girl, Anne something, asked me.

“I have been living the SKG lifestyle since my sophomore year of high school,” I explained that my skin condition might need to spend time nude every day. At the same time, medicines were applied, how the nurse, the woman who would become my adopted mother, had taught me the basic positions and disciplines during those sessions and had continued to instruct me. At the same time, I participated in the Naked In School Program during the last two years of high school.

That I lived and moved and had my being in absolute nudity totally shocked some of the girls, but when I explained that Sigma Kappa Gamma was a bearded cover for the priestesshood of the Sky Clad Goddess and nearly all rituals pertaining to the sorority would be done while nude, one or two of the women became decidedly uncomfortable.

Raluca then told the pledges, “It is time for your decision, either prepare to present yourself to the sisterhood as proper pledges, as demonstrated by sister pledge Greta, or repack your belongings and take the next several hours to find a dorm room on campus. If you are staying, be nude and in the dining room in fifteen minutes.” With that, the pledge mistress left us.

I told the girls, “My mom, Sam Kramer, told me over three years ago that in submission, there is freedom. There is a scripture that suggests wives be obedient to their husbands as unto the Lord. Well, obedience is not submission; for submission to be perfect, the one who submits must love, trust, and honor the one who commands or dominates to the point that all decisions in their life are made by the dominant. When Sam adopted me and I adapted to the Naked In Society lifestyle, I could not believe how free I felt being within the structure of the program and having a loving parent with a firm hand to guide me into that freedom,” I paused. “My life before Sam was structured, rigid, and dominated; however, I was not free within that structure to live or to move and be what nature destined me to be. I was not free to love and be loved by both sexes. I was not free to enjoy the beauty given me in my body nor to enjoy the icy chill of winter upon it, nor bask in the heated rays of summer. No, I was mentally and physically shackled more than any bondage restraint a Domme might place on me, and I was hurt more than any flay or rod could make upon me. Now I have no restrictions on my life other than what my Domme tells me I have. My mom released me to this chapter of SKG and now they collectively are my Domme, as they shall be Domme for you if you decide to remain in this house. These next few weeks may be uncomfortable for those of you who never submitted to the Naked In School program in High School, but you will survive them with the help of the girls around you. I do not know why the Sisters left me here to speak with you, but I do know that obedience to their desires is not an option. So, if you are staying, strip and do it here and now. You were not given permission to leave the room and we will all be seeing each other as you now see me a great deal in the future. If you are leaving, gather your gear and do so quickly and quietly.”

As a gesture that I did not want to know who was making which decision, I turned my back on the eight young women and waited a full five minutes by the grandfather clock in the dining room before I turned. I heard rustling and the outer door of the house open and close about a minute before I turned back to the girls.

The eight had become four. Lexis, Dottie, Anna, and Philly remained and were nude. I could not believe what a sight they were. Lexis, a Eurasian just over five feet tall with a pure boy figure, no breasts but huge eraser nipples and absolutely no body hair, was delectable. Dottie, five feet eight inches of curves, African-American about a size twelve with thirty-eight C breasts just a tiny bit sagging, enough to trap a pencil and hold it underneath, and a pubic bush that ran from her navel to her mid inner thigh. Anna (Ah-nah), taller than Dottie by at least three inches and athletically built with 34B breasts and legs that went on forever, had only a light dusting of blond hair in her crotch. She also had wicked tan lines, pure white triangular patches at her groin and breasts, and a smaller triangle above her butt crack, suggesting a summer spent in a thong swim suit. Philly gave the physical appearance of one of mixed bloodlines from Brazil or the Caribbean islands. Standing at five feet four inches and with a spot of white only at her crotch suggesting a summer of topless sunbathing, her pubes were trimmed to a very thin landing strip of hair barely within the boundaries of the tan line.

Raluca entered the room at that point. “So Greta didn’t scare you girls off with her tales,” Raluca said in a tone that was far more gentle than I had thought it would be. “Well, that means you get to sleep here tonight at the very least. Now let’s have a look at you all.” She proceeded to walk around each of the pledges and made notes on her clipboard. She then walked around me and did the same.

“Well, ladies, we have our work cut out for us over the next three weeks. Those of you with tan lines will be spending a great deal of time on our rooftop sundeck, losing them. Those who have body hair, please introduce it to a razor before tomorrow morning. Greta, I am giving you the pleasure of supervising the exfoliation of your sisters, and if they aren’t bare tomorrow, you will get one stroke for every hair we find during inspection.” With that, Raluca left us, tossing over her shoulder, “You may now go pick out your bunks in the pledge dorm.”