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Back at the Frat House, the regulars are there waiting for us. When I say regulars, I mean the groupies that sit around waiting and hoping that we will pick them to use for the night. We may be sick bastards, but the girls love us and what we can do for them. So, as we walk past the sluts of Helshire, Fynn and Jett fall into their laps and get right to it. They don't give a fuck if anyone else is around; they get off on that shit, making the girls they are with take their cocks in front of others.
I just keep going, not picking any pussy this time around. All I want is my solitude, a bottle of Jack, and a nice fat joint while I plan Catalina Scott's initiation into being the Lords of Sin's whore.
“Hey, Oak, where are you going?” Jett calls out.
I wave my hand at him, “You fuckers have fun with all that used-up pussy. I'll be having a little party of my own.”
“Fuck you, Oakley. You're such an asshole; you know that?”
I stop in my tracks as gasps echo through the room. Turning, I stare at the bleach-bottle blonde with the fake tits hanging halfway out of her shirt. I walk right up to the slut and look down at her tits. Collecting as much as I could gather in my mouth, I spit down into her cleavage.
“There you go. I gave you my wad; now get your fake ass out of my fucking house!” The bitch swings her hand at me, and I catch it mere inches from my face, “Let me go, you sick fuck!”
My smile doesn't quite reach my eyes, “If that was meant to insult me, it did the exact opposite. I may be a sick fuck, but then what are you? I believe you got off on being fucked with a beer bottle and some used condom rolled onto it.” I look over her shoulder at Fynn, “Do we still have the video of Beer Bottle Betty here?”
“I believe we do, Mr. Sick Fuck.” My friend grins.
I give the girl my attention once more, “As you were saying?”
She yanks her wrist out of my hand, which I let her, and she backs away, “I don't know what us girls see in you guys! You all are sick and depraved!”
Me and my friends chuckle, “Because you love our cocks and how we bring out the whore in every single one of you. Now, get the fuck out and don't come back. If you come back, the video will be released for the whole school to watch.” I turn and head for the stairs, forgetting all about Beer Bottle Betty.
As I pass one of the blondes with long hair, she reminds me of our newest conquest, and I grin, pointing at her, “You just got lucky. Get your ass to my room, now.”
The girl smiles and jumps up, following me up the stairs. She's already obedient, because she doesn't run her mouth a mile a minute. She keeps it closed and follows, almost like a lost puppy dog. When I get to my room, I stop before opening the door. Grabbing her jaw, I make her look at me as I pull out my phone and press record. “What is your name, blondie?”
“Katelyn Damper,” she says so nicely.
“Well, Katelyn Damper, do you consent to everything I'm about to do to this delectable body of yours?”
The bitch licks her lips, “Yes, Oakley, I consent.”
“Good girl. Now, get your ass in there and strip the fuck down.” The moment I open my door, she flies inside and begins to strip. Because I'm a bastard, I don't close my door, so any of my Frat brothers can see little Katelyn in all her glory. I don't want to fuck her, but if she's lucky enough, I will let her suck me off while I relax and smoke my shit.
Word has it that KittyCat will be out and about with her roommate, so I'm going to tail her and see where she ends up. Up until now, she's been boring as fuck, and I've been tempted to fuck with her just to make her life a little more interesting.
As I wait for our girl and her friend to leave the Sorority House, I light a smoke and take a few deep drags from it, making rings as I exhale. I throw it to the ground as soon as I see my target leave, and I keep my distance until I know exactly where they are going.
“Jesus fuck, seriously, the Jock House?” I should have sent Fynn on this mission; he'd fit in better than I will but fuck it. It's not like they are going to kick me out. I keep to the shadows, only talking to people if I really have to.
I watch as my Kitty Cat talks to some bullshit jock in the kitchen, and I come up with an idea. Heading out the front door, I circle around back, planning on heading in and 'bumping' into her or some shit like that. Luckily, I don't have to set foot in that fucking house again, because she comes outside to me.
Forcing her to bump into me was genius, and yet, the dumbest thing I could have done, because now that I've been in her space, it makes me want to be up inside her even more. I'm fucked, but not as much as she will be by the Sinners.
Now that we've had this initial meeting, I know she's not the Saint Felisha hopes she is. Call it a sixth sense, but I believe that this little Saint will be the biggest Sinner of all, and the Lords of Sin will have front-row seats. Hell, we’ll be in sniffer's row.
An hour after our initial meeting, I could hardly believe that our girl shows up at the Emo party next door to the Sinner's domain. It appears that Kitty Cat doesn't regard the Saint's rules as she should, and for that, she deserves a reward. I wonder just how many sins she's willing to commit before she realizes that her Saintly status means shit to us. If anything, the downfall of a Saint turns us on, but she will soon realize that it's not the downfall of a Saint that is our end game. No, it's owning that Saint's mind, body, and fucking soul.
Jett
“Oh, the game is on!” I grin wickedly at the blonde bombshell across the beer pong table.
I've been watching her, and she's good, but my Lovely Lina is no match for me. I will have her stripped bare naked like the day she was born in no time at all. Her smirk will be wiped right off her face in just...one...quick...second. I toss the ping pong ball, landing it in the cup I called.
Lovely Lina raises a brow, “Really?”
She now has to make the same glass as I did; otherwise, it's off with an item of clothing. I step back and stand with my feet apart and my arms crossed, letting my bulging, tattooed biceps peek out from the sleeves of my t-shirt. Looking over my shoulder at my boys, Oakley and Fynn are in the same stance and wearing the same smirk.
