The Cult had no power to control who might walk through the doors, unwittingly seeking admission. As a result, the members had no choice but to ask those who didn't 'measure up' to leave. The criteria were pleasing looks and a similar personality, race and ethnic background being quite unimportant. Those who refused to leave were shunned, and ultimately gave up and left. Young women were required to meet an additional requirement: public sexual submission to the leader of the group. This is the story of one young woman who agreed to meet that requirement.

The virgin Princess, Carolyn was her name, was clad all in white, with lace coverings that barely shielded the charms of her nubile youth. She shivered nervously as she knelt for the first time ever before the awesome King whose name was only whispered among her peers, the mighty Phallus. Phallus, the name, the title, the description of the one from whose dual-purpose slit would emerge the fabled cream of slippery sperm, thought tasty by some and spat out by others. Phallus, the one whose blood-filled purple crown and hard veined throbbing shaft would soon tear asunder the frail membrane that differentiated the maiden from all those around her. Phallus, the powerful shaft that if she were lucky would soon transport her across that mystical border where she had previously needed female help to cross, to the long dreamed of world of Orgasm by a male, the big O.

Her breasts were those of a Princess, measuring a fetching 34B, delightfully putting curves into any garment she wore. At the moment, they were unencumbered by unneeded support, allowing her nipples to expand comfortably when, as then, her mind contemplated the mighty Phallus. Those pointed eraser sized fountains (future tense — they were not yet primed to produce any milk when suckled by venturesome friends) had often grown in arousal under the fingers or lips of her peers, male and female alike. Yet Carolyn's only phallic experience had been visual, magazines, DVDs, even (though he didn't know that she had seen it) the sight of her brother's fully engorged member in their mother's mouth, but she had never felt the sensation of touching the sacred scepter of the male of the species.

King Phallus, six feet one inch on a medical chart but nine inches where it counted, sat on a ratty, cum-encrusted old couch. He waited before her, unencumbered by the linens worn in more public settings, unprotected save by the twin sperm-producing testicles hiding in their shriveled crinkled sac, sentinels whose function was not to protect but to send Phallus into combat over and over again for their own release. A small drop of their product formed at the slit in the crown of Phallus, a visual 'sound of trumpets' signaling, along with his own fully erect height and his expanded girth, that the King was ready for battle.

The young men and young women of the Court stood back, allowing the King, Marcus his given name, and the Princess Carolyn as much room as possible. The men's eyes were fixed on the comely lass, barely clad as she was, delightfully suckable breasts about to explode from her flimsy bodice, a firm ass, hidden by flaming red bikini panties, presented to the assemblage, her face smooth, wholesome, approaching beauty. They anxiously awaited the moment when Carolyn's face would be impaled on the Phallus before her. Each man had his hands and arms somewhere about the body of the young woman next to him as he dreamed of the time when the group of many would flitter away into groups of two or more, conjoined in lust in various rooms. And in various positions.

The women on the other hand watched abstractly, some even talking among themselves as their gentlemen fondled. Each of them had once been a Princess, virginal as Carolyn, submitting themselves to the sensual pleasures of a previous King du jour, possibly even the young man whose hands were then fondling her charms, and to the visual pleasure of all of the others. Some remembered the thrill of that moment, when all eyes were focused on her entry into communal sexual womanhood. Others remembered it with disgust, a stupid and embarrassing ritual, even as they watched one of their sisters experience the same thing, even as they felt their own young man's hands fumbling over their bodies in a (mostly vain) attempt at arousal.

Every one of them, King and Court alike, would be shocked to learn, as they would before the evening progressed too far, that Carolyn was truly a virgin, not merely in the ritual sense of the assembled group but in her real physical sexual existence. Or non-existence, if you will. All of the previously virginal women of the Court had been deflowered and then used (read: fucked) many times before their ceremonial submission before the group. Carolyn was perhaps the first bearer (wearer?) of an intact hymen in the last three or four years of the group's assembly.

A deep voice barked out from above Carolyn's head.

"Suck it, cunt."

Onlookers, the women that is, winced in sympathy with the young virgin. Not that any of them minded sucking cock; they were all experienced fellatrices, and virtually all of them were quite adept at bringing an aroused penis to a speedy ejaculation. After all, it was the simplest sex act of the spectrum, not even requiring one to remove her clothing. A tissue to spit the cum — if she didn't care to swallow — was all she needed. But it was the tone of the command that rankled, even more than the use of that filthy word. It was a word that they themselves used, in the heat of foreplay or passion, to describe their own womanly openings. But it was not a word to be used to describe the woman herself.

The harsh sound brought Princess Carolyn back to reality. Her eyes blinked as she absorbed the fact that this was to be her initiation into the Cult of the Fourteenth Floor, the highest floor in the tallest dormitory building of the entire University. Residence on that floor, and thus admission to the Cult, was offered solely to "Legacy" students, those accepted into the University largely on the basis of the fact that a parent or sibling had preceded them into the august ivied halls, and had later remembered their days at the University with generous contributions.

In Carolyn's case, her antecedents at the University consisted of both her father and her brother Danny, eight years her elder. It had been her brother, seven years earlier and already a member of the Cult, whose fingers and lips, in that order, had inaugurated her nipples into the delights of heterosexuality during a school holiday week. She had been only ten, and in awe of her brother. Had their mother not had the prescience to walk into her room, her hymen would have been torn asunder that night, and who know where it all might have led. Mother had become a human chastity belt for Carolyn ever since, and fortunately her brother had been able to avail himself of the services of the female membership of the Cult to relieve his carnal needs at school.

This entire motherly protection business had left Carolyn quite confused. A mere week or two after her mother had walked in on Danny and her, Carolyn had been in bed, trying to fall asleep, when she had heard noises from Danny's room. Knowing that their parents had already gone to bed, Carolyn guessed that Danny had sneaked some girl into his room, and not to do homework for a creative writing course either. Possibly for some other sort of creativity, she thought, but not one that the professor would grade. She tiptoed down the hall and peeked in through the barest of cracks in the door. Oh yes, Danny, flat on his back on the bed, indeed had some girl in there, on her knees with his penis in her mouth. Only the girl was Mom!

Transfixed, Carolyn watched in awe as their connected body parts moved apart and together like a reciprocating engine, her head and his hips moving apart and then coming together. This continued for several minutes until Danny suddenly grabbed the back of his mother's head and held it tightly, groaning at the same time. They stayed motionless for a few seconds and then Mom pulled her head off of Danny's penis. Young Carolyn could see some white cream oozing out of the corner of her mother's mouth, and a smaller amount pooling at the top of her brother's penis. Her naked mother bent down to kiss her brother's mouth, the cream flowing between them. At that point, Carolyn sneaked back to her room. It was only when her fingers tired of the attempt to bring herself off did Carolyn finally fall asleep.

By the time that she arrived on the Fourteenth floor, however, Carolyn had already promised herself that once her virginity was gone, the barrier of her hymen removed, (and Mom no longer in control of her physical setting) she would give her body next to her beloved brother, and she didn't give a fuck what her brand new sister-in-law Sally might say.

The Princess leaned forward toward King Phallus. Her fingers spread the piss slit and a small drop of pre-cum oozed out. With a quick flick of her tongue it was gone, tasteless and forgotten. Her eyes roved over this new sight, a real life version of what she had only (except that once) seen in pictures. She reached out and touched it, felt the flesh, hard yet soft with blood coursing through it. Her hand briefly recoiled at the warmth of it, sensing a burning on her fingers though the temperature in reality was not far removed from the homo sapien average of 98.6 degrees.

She giggled to herself inwardly, thinking back to the evolution portion of her high school biology class, realizing that she held the phallic member of one homo sapien who was really a homo erectus.

Marcus laid a hand gently on the back of her head, not pulling, not steering, merely reassuring Carolyn that her mouth was close to where he wanted it to be. To be more precise, where he and every other male in the room wanted it to be. As for the females, watching another girl sucking someone else's cock generally leaves them unmoved. What the heck, each of them felt herself to be expertly able to handle that task; they didn't need lessons from the new girl.

As she held it, she softly laid a kiss on the crown, her warm exhale surrounding it. Though Carolyn was inexperienced in such matters, a blow job is for all intents and purposes an instinctive act; she knew what had to be done. Her hand gently pulled the shaft toward her, as her tongue washed the crown and her lips dried it off. The sound of Marcus breathing told her that she was performing well.

She lifted his shaft so that it was perpendicular to the floor, exposing the veined underside for her to lick, slowly up and down, up and down. Her eyes were drawn to his hairy, crinkly sac hanging down, large enough to be a suitable accompaniment in size for King Phallus. Yet as beautiful as was the cock in her hand, Marcus' balls were comparably ugly — as would be every set that Carolyn would ever view for the rest of her life. Such an important organ for humanity, those little testicles producing the sweet cream necessary for procreation — and for blow jobs — and yet so totally unattractive.

Her fingers gently caressed the sac. Try as she might, Carolyn's fingers were unable to contain either one of the squirming balls as they oozed away at the slightest touch. She lifted the sac toward her mouth, licking all over before taking the entire unit into her mouth. She heard the sharp intake of his breath as Marcus gasped and tightened before slowly relaxing as his fear subsided, the universal moment of exquisite terror of every male when he feels that his balls might be in jeopardy.

Princess Carolyn smiled inwardly at the incongruity of sucking her...

What should she call Marcus? How should she think of him? King? Oh no, that's just play bullshit. Lover? Hell no, she barely knows him. Boy friend? Same answer. Consort? Well, the word goes with Princess, but this prick had called her a cunt. She restarted her thought.

Princess Carolyn smiled inwardly at the incongruity of sucking that prick Marcus' balls before sucking his cock. She supposed that she had not been the first woman in history to service...

Again her mind digressed, this time at her involuntary thought of a word. It was the correct word, unfortunately. She was servicing this no good bastard between whose legs she knelt, and the realization disgusted her. She was abasing herself for the sole purpose of joining the elite Cult of the Fourteenth floor, and she hated herself for it.

Carolyn had known all about the Cult years earlier. She had been sitting on her bed in her pj's, listening to Danny tell all about college life. When he had gotten to the part about the Cult, her ears had perked up, and she had felt moisture in her pussy for the first time. As he talked, she had gotten hot, physically and mentally, and had pulled her top off over her head, giving him a view of her nipples that he had never in fact tried to spy upon. It was Carolyn herself who had brought Danny's fingers and lips to her fledgling breasts. She had been ready to let him deflower her, to take her childhood. She knew that she could have coaxed him — she still didn't know the word seduce — without difficulty.

And she would have succeeded, easily, had not their mother walked in. When she had stopped screaming, she had confined Carolyn to an in-home nunnery, or so it had felt, until the day she left for college. Carolyn wondered idly how her high school days might have been different had she had the opportunity to enjoy a sex life in those earlier years.

So this was to be the beginning of her sex life, blowing Marcus in front of the entire population of the Fourteenth floor. And the contents of her stomach began to curdle as she resolved to get it over with. She would blow him, she would spread her legs for his cock and then she'd be a full-fledged member of the Cult, free to accept or reject the sexual blandishments of any of her fellow residents, of whatever gender, free to invite anyone, any non-member of whatever gender, into her bed without question at any time (save for Initiations and scheduled Orgies, which were themselves optional for members).

Carolyn's mouth released the crinkled sac and immediately gobbled down the Royal Phallus. She knew that it was too long for her to swallow completely and she used her hand at its base to prevent the crown from intruding down her throat. She had no doubt that without protecting herself in that manner, Marcus would feel entitled to deep-throat her, and she resolved never to give him that pleasure.

To get it over quickly, Carolyn began to suck at the cock like a hungry baby at the teat, as though to satisfy herself with the milk from the nipple with the hole in the middle. She sought no satisfaction from the forthcoming discharge, in fact didn't even stop to think that Marcus would get great satisfaction from her efforts. She thought only that she must skip the niceties that her friends spoke about, the licking, the puffs of warm air, the humming of pleasure, the bringing him close and then slowing down. All she wanted was to get him off and move on to the next step in the ritual.

To the on-looking assemblage, of course, and to Marcus himself, it appeared that Carolyn's fervor was based upon some special need to have him explode his cum into her mouth. She hadn't thought of that, and wouldn't have cared if she had seen that point of view. For her, it was simply a matter of 'cum, you bastard, cum and get it over with', though her mouth was too busy to utter those words aloud.

But her mouth did the job. Trying as hard as he could to hold back his ejaculation, still Marcus' balls were no match for Carolyn's suction, and he soon blasted into her with a grunt and a series of throbs, each throb spurting the cream of his vile lust. Carolyn's lips formed a tight entrance to her mouth, keeping all the cum inside, allowing none of it to ooze onto her face.

"Swallow it, cunt."

Again that disgusting word from the young man between whose legs King Phallus dangled. Again Princess Carolyn returned to the moment. She had never in her life been called a cunt, had rarely even used the word, and then only as a crude biological descriptor. She remained on her knees, her mouth full of Marcus' discharge. Her first thought, to her dismay, was that it really didn't taste that bad. Maybe she should just gulp it down and move on.

Then she thought again about her surroundings. She was on a dorm floor known to be devoted to sexual activities of all sorts, all combinations, all openings, anything goes. She was willingly participating in her ritual initiation into the communal debauchery. She had been looking forward to the sex, had even secretly practiced fellatio on more than one banana. She had known that Marcus would ejaculate his seed into her mouth and was pleasantly surprised at the acceptable taste. She was quite prepared to swallow. And she looked forward to her first carnal coupling, to the bloody tearing of her cherry and to the powerful thrusts that had previously only been done by her fingers. She was ready for womanhood.

And yet she had always thought, always really known, that sexual congress must be a two-way street, with each participant giving pleasure and consideration as well as receiving it (ignoring for the moment the singularity of pleasure in on-your-knees fellatio.) What Carolyn heard though was a tone of superiority in Marcus' gruff voice, the droit du seignor, the right of the Nobility to take her virginity the night before a young woman's marriage, implicit in his soon to be rupture of her (supposed) hymen. And Carolyn wasn't ready to spend her college life with a bunch of young men who treated women like shit.