Only the Worthy Serve

[Blase]

OOC: Closed for myself and AlisonMarch. Please read and enjoy. Comments welcome via PM.

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"Only the worthy serve."

You couldn't spend much time on campus at Avalon College without running across those four words. You'd hear them mentioned casually in the halls; see them see them penciled in on flyers, or sometimes scrawled across an unused blackboard.

Normally it was mostly meant in fun, the sentence tossed around lightly. But it could be a bit nerve-wracking if you were a candidate to be a slave.

Not too many people got to be slaves, of course. It was pretty competitive, being asked to serve at the annual Rites of Spring that took place every year in late May. The Rites were unofficial, of course, just like the anonymous Student Council that put the party together. But if the Council needed formal recognition to throw the best party of the year - or to permeate the culture at Avalon - they apparently had never noticed.

On that particular day, the excitement - and the tension - were just starting to build. Most people didn't know it yet, but the candidates had just been contacted, by one anonymous method or another. Within a very short time, everyone would know who they were. That was where a lot of the tension came in: getting an invitation was rare enough - they only went to select freshman girls, and the Council showed a decided preference for willowy overachievers - but when one came, it just meant that you had a month to prove yourself: Only the worthy served.

In her case, it started with an email. The subject line was the ubiquitous four-word declaration; the sender's address a generic-sounding one ending in .edu. The message field was empty.

She knew it was a challenge. Whenever a candidate was so addressed, one and only one answer was expected: "Without flinching." To answer any other way meant that you would no longer be considered.

She also knew that if she sent the required answer back, another email, or another communication in some form, would soon arrive. It would contain her first instruction.

 

[AlisonMarch]

Jill Johnson tapped furiously at her tablet's keyboard, taking careful notes as Professor ***** wound down her lecture on the early Impressionists and how they laid the foundations for so much of what followed. Art History had turned out to be a lot more interesting that Jill had expected. Like most of her friends, she had signed up for the course because it took care of a Social Studies requirement and more importantly, got rid of the art requirement without actually having to make anything. It wasn't that Jill was against creating art, but art was displayed and judged, and those judgements always seemed to reflect on the artist, even if she was just an eighteen-year-old freshman trying to get a requirement out of the way.

Halfway through a semester of Art History, Jill almost regretted not taking up a brush and being fearless and creative. Almost. One look around her reminded her that it would have been social suicide. She might not have been the most popular girl in the freshman class, but at least she was in the right group. They were all pretty, all slender and all of them were deep into college life. At 5'6” Jill was one of the shorter ones, but on the flip side, she had the biggest breasts in the group. They all wore tight jeans tucked into high heeled boots, and sweat-shirts with Avalon College over their breasts. They had good grades, they were in clubs and played volleyball and went to all the right parties.

There were five minutes left in class when the icon for her email blinked. Professor ***** was summarizing what she had already said, and Jill clicked over to it. Just four words, but she knew what they meant. She looked around at her friends, but none of them showed any signs of having got the email, though they had been talking about The Rites of Spring and the mysterious Council for weeks. The rumors were thick and naturally suspect. The girls who had been slaves last year were practically royalty at the school, except for one, who was supposedly in a mental hospital because of what had happened to her.

“Have a good weekend,” Professor ***** said, “and don't forget the gallery opening on Saturday, those of you who want a look at what real artists are doing nowadays.”

The rest of the class was ready to go. It was Thursday, and there would be a few early parties to attend. Jill sat and stared at the email, but as soon as she showed her friends, their response was universal. “You have to.”

There was a bit of envy, but at least as much relief. Whatever happened, they all knew Jill's life was about to be very different. Since it was generally believed that the chosen girls were rarely close, her friends knew they were not likely to be chosen, and most of them were happy that way. Standing out from the crowd made a girl vulnerable. Of course they didn't say that to Jill. They just said “Yes.” “You're so lucky!” “This is awesome.”

Jill hit reply, and typed the two fatal words. “Without flinching.”

She took a deep breath, and hit send.

 

[Blase]

Kate had never met Jill Johnson, but as a driver for Sub Club, she went to strangers' doors all the time. What made this run unusual wasn't the unfamiliar address or even that it was a dorm room, but the fact that the run really wasn't for her workplace: Someone had bought the pizza in advance and had offered her twenty bucks to make the delivery on her own time, after the end of her shift, wearing her work uniform and following very specific instructions. Since twenty for about an hour's work was more than she made, except perhaps on New Year's Eve, she had no problem saying yes. And besides, the instructions sort of gave away who was behind the odd errand.

Naturally she expected that Jill had been given instructions of her own, although she had no way of knowing that they'd come in another email...

...A Sub Club delivery girl will come to your door. Change clothes with her and then make her run for her while she rides shotgun. You won't have to collect for the order, but if you're offered a tip, accept it.

But Kate wasn't really thinking about Jill's instructions as she knocked on her door. She was just following hers. Although she did a bit of a double-take when the door opened and the slender, moderately endowed Kate got a look at the girl who she was supposed to change clothes with. Whoever opened the door to Jill while she was wearing Kate's uniform shirt was going to see much more than a hint of cleavage.

Kate shook her head, dismissing any concerns of immodesty or stretched fabric. She smiled at the girl standing in front of her and said, "Only the worthy serve."

 

[AlisonMarch]

Jill had spent most of the day winding herself up. Since she had replied to the message “without flinching,” she had checked her email a hundred times, waiting for the follow-up that she knew had to be coming. The afternoon passed, and there was nothing. She went to the dining hall with her friends and could hardly eat she was so nervous, and when they invited her to join them at the coffee shop to study and socialize, she passed. They understood.
The message came late in the evening, when she had nearly worn herself out. It was a strange order, but she sent back the reply, and a few minutes later, there was a knock. She opened the door, and saw a complete stranger.
“Without flinching,” she said, letting the girl into her room. They looked at eachother for a long moment, and Jill blushed, understanding the test now. The girl was tiny, and as they swapped shirts, Jill knew she was going to be humiliated.
Sure enough, the Sub Club shirt left a few inches of her belly bare, and stretched tight over her breasts. Too much cleavage showed, and the lacy edge of her bra winked under the collar.

They drove across campus, and the girl waited in the car while Jill carried the pizza up to another room in another dorm. She tried to make the top appear vaguely modest, but it was a lost cause, so she took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

 

[Blase]

Brad was usually pretty cool around girls, but the sight that greeted him when he opened his door was... unexpected. He did manage not to stammer, but failed hopelessly at not staring.

But even as he stood back and invited the girl into his room, he realized that there was no real reason to try. The point was quite obviously for her to be looked at and to know that she was being looked at. So he did his job and stared unrepentantly.

The door closed behind Jill and she stood waiting. Brad took the proffered pizza box while still letting his eyes accept the rest of what was on offer. A small envelope was taped to the box. He opened it and read the note aloud: "Sending you a piece. Ha ha." He shook his head and opened the box to reveal the single slice of pizza that it contained.

"Very funny," he said ruefully. "They could at least have sent me the whole damn thing. I haven't eaten since lunch."

He turned back to Jill, his gaze showing that he was fully aware that not even a cardboard box separated them now. "But I guess that's beside the, ah, point..."

"You want a tip, honey?"

 

[AlisonMarch]

The guy invited her in, and she accepted, not sure if she was required to or not. Still, to be worthy, she had to serve without flinching. That didn't mean twisting the words around to do the bare minimum. It meant doing everything, including letting this random guy stare at her tits while he

"Very funny. They could at least have sent me the whole damn thing. I haven't eaten since lunch."

"But I guess that's beside the, ah, point..." He stared at her chest again, and he gave a smile that made her tremble. She wanted to run away from this pervert stranger who was staring at her tits like they were on display at the market. Which, she had to admit, they kind of were. Still, a part of her was excited by what this all meant. She was being tested, and the only way to fail was to back down. "You want a tip, honey?"

... but if you're offered a tip, accept. The instructions had been clear, and she nodded her head, shrugging.

"Sure," she said. "I'd love a tip."

 

[Blase]

"Okay, honey."

Instead of reaching into his pocket, Brad turned away from Alison, walking the short distance to the far wall where his bed was. Milking the moment for all it was worth, he kept his back to her and pulled his shirt off over his head, laying it on the bed. Then he turned and walked slowly back to Jill, knowing that not only was removing his shirt likely to make her less comfortable, but that it would also show the definition that he had developed over many hours in the gym.

He didn't stop until he was close enough to Jill that it would feel like a challenge.

"Well, then," he said, pulling out a five-dollar bill and folding it into thirds, "you'll have to hold still for it." He held the bill in his hand and began to move it towards her as he spoke, using the same "circling the airport" motion that people sometimes used when feeding a fussy infant.

"Because..." His hand dipped from eye to waist level before starting upwards again.

"only..." The bill came closer.

"the worthy..." He was nearly touching Jill.

"serve." The over-matched uniform shirt left too much of her uncovered for it to even be a challenge. His fingers slipped right inside the neck of the shirt and, a second later, slid the folded bill between her bra strap and her bare skin.

Brad drew his hand back.

 

[AlisonMarch]

She watched him, almost in shock, as he took off his shirt. He was cut, muscular, a gym-rat, but there was something tantalizing about his smooth skin and hard muscle. When he walked back towards her, he wore a smug smile that part of her wanted to slap. The other part was weak in the knees and so flustered she almost forgot to breathe.

She watched as he folded the bill, but then she looked away as he waved it around. She looked past him, at his shirt laying on the bed, and wondered to herself if this was really what she wanted. This was just the first day, and she was already being humiliated by some guy she never met. Except as he spoke
slowly
the
words
that
she'd heard so much over the past weeks, she felt her lips trembling with excitement and she looked him in the eye as he slid the folded five dollar bill under the strap of her bra.

"Without flinching," she whispered, and winked.

She couldn't say where she got the nerve, but she brought her hand up to stroke his cheek and smiled for a second, before she spun on her heel and opened the door. Once she was home, she would be able to forget about this.

 

[Blase]

Someone wearing a rose stickpin will say hi to you today. Follow her instructions.

The latest email was straightforward enough, in an open-ended sort of way. Exactly how open-ended was something that Sherry was supposed to teach Jill.

Of course, Jill didn't know that. All she knew was that, when she finally came up and said hello to her in the courtyard as Jill was heading to her next class, the person with the rose stickpin turned out to be a stunning brunette.

All Jill knew was that, after they greeted each other, the brunette handed her a leather collar attached to a chain and simply said, "Put this on."

 

[AlisonMarch]

Jill knew that the party was still a ways away, and that all over campus, potential slaves were being weeded out. Her friends all advised her to be careful, not to do anything she was uncomfortable with, but she could see the envy in their eyes. If they had been chosen, she was sure they would do whatever it took. She knew she was going to do the same.

The next day, she wore a miniskirt and a sweater with a low neckline. She was on her way to her Chem lab when the girl with the rose stickpin approached her. She made a quick excuse to her friends, who exchanged knowing glances as they went on, and waited for the brunette's instructions.

Jill looked down at the collar the brunette had handed her. Black leather with metal studs, it didn't leave much doubt about its purpose, and she felt her face flushing a hot red as she buckled it around her neck, the chain hanging between her breasts. Other students passing by slowed to see what was happening, and she could hear the whispers starting. Oddly, she found herself straining to hear what was said, enjoying the attention, even the humiliation.

"OK," she said to the brunette, when the collar was on. "What's next?

 

[Blase]

"Let's go for a walk," Sherry said evenly.

She began to lead Jill across the campus, talking as they went.

"You seem a little... I don't know. Defensive, or almost angry. But the Council isn't picking on you, you know. The members actually seem to feel that you could be... special. The way you can tell is because you've got a guide, now. Very few girls are assigned a guide like this."

She reached out and flipped up the hem of Jill's miniskirt for a second.

"Good, you're wearing panties."

She held out her hand.

"Give me your skirt."