She slips a hand under her skirt, long fingers tracing the damp fabric of her panties. her face a mask of fear and humiliation as the men looked on. Her chest heaving as she witnessed something deeply personal and intimate from Heather. Heather grins wickedly at the sight, clearly pleased with the total devastation of her new pledge’s most intimate area. Heather waited to see if Meredith would ask to touch or taste her. With each violent thrust, her tender inner walls strained and tore, delicate tissue ripping as it struggled to accommodate the cruel invasion. You’ve respected the tradition, and you’ve earned the respect of your sisters.”
A pause hung in the air, deliberate. She felt a rush of power and desire. She pumped them in and out, the obscene squelch of the action filling the room. After a moment, Heather slid her fingers lower. “Mmmm, you taste like you’re enjoying yourself, Meredith,” she taunted. – Mike, the tight end, was hung like a horse with a monstrous, 12-inch, veiny beast, the bulbous helmet and angry purple.
