The Pledge Masters

Pledge Collins, caught red-handed posing as an upperclassman, stands tense in President Martin's quarters, awaiting his fate. Mike Gregory's heart pounds as Steve Hammond strides in, eyes gleaming with authority. Martin wastes no time. 'Worship me,' he commands, voice low and firm. Collins drops to his knees, starts at the feet—kissing, licking, savoring the salty skin. He works upward, tongue tracing calves, thighs, until he reaches Martin's throbbing cock. Martin grips his hair, guides him in slow, deep thrusts. The pledge gags softly, throat stretching around the thick shaft, saliva dripping as he learns to crave every inch. When Martin's cock glistens with spit, slick and ready, he turns, bends slightly. 'Prepare me,' he growls. Collins dives in, tongue probing the tight pucker, rimming with eager laps, warming and opening that sweet entrance. Martin groans, patience fraying. He can't hold back anymore. Spinning Collins around, he presses in—plowing hard, pumping relentless, plunging deeper. He slams forward, burying himself to the hilt, again and again, stretching the pledge's hole wide. Collins unloads three times, body shuddering in ecstasy, but Martin powers on, an endless fuck machine driving them both to the edge. At last, he pulls out, climaxes with a roar—ropes of thick cum showering the repentant boy, marking him thoroughly. Martin lets Collins curl up on the floor for the night, but as the fire dies and chill seeps in, he reconsiders the pledge's willing submission. Scooping him up, Martin carries him to the warm bed. The hazing ends there, in tangled sheets and satisfied sighs.