Hell Week for Luanne

This was written by lubutt17 but disappeared along with his other stories.

Luanne was 18 years old and a freshman at — College. She was stunningly pretty, even beautiful; five-foot-four with long chestnut-brown hair that fell in gentle waves to her shoulders, sparkling hazel eyes, milky-white, perfect skin, and an innocent smile that could break your heart with its sweetness. Her body was perfect; just a touch on the chubby side, but curvy and delicious, with full hips, a beautifully round and protuberant bottom, and breasts just a little too large for her frame. Perfect, beautifully shapely legs and arms, pretty feet and hands, and a charming modesty and old-fashioned primness that made it clear she had no conceit about her beauty. She seemed innocently unaware of it.
It was Rush Week, and Luanne was the prettiest girl that had ever wanted to pledge the Delta sorority–and they hated her for it. The other girls–homely dogs, obese pigs, and ugly geeks–were viciously jealous of this sweet and beautiful girl. They decided to punish Luanne and make her innocent beauty a curse instead of something to be proud of. They would destroy her, making her a laughingstock and a public cunthole instead of “the prettiest girl at — College.” they began making plans the very day that Luanne showed up at their rush party.

Day 1

Luanne clapped her pretty hands with joy at being told she had been accepted as a pledge–but she didn’t notice the sly looks that passed between the two girls who brought her the news, one fat with piggy little eyes, the other skinny, flat-chested and pimply. They smirked knowingly at each other, but poor Luanne took the smirks as friendly smiles. She would soon learn differently.

Luanne reported to the dorm basement that night; the Deltas had no sorority house. She learned that she was the only pledge that year–which she took as an honor, but which was merely part of the active members’ plan. Luanne blushed when she heard the dress code for Hell Week: she would be allowed to wear no underwear, no panties or bra, all week. Short miniskirts and clingy knit tops with white thong bikini sandals would be all she was allowed to wear. She was to wear no nail polish on either fingers or toes, and no jewelry at all. It was all part of the active members’ cruel plan.

And there was more.

On that first night, Luanne was required to strip naked in the dorm basement and wait, standing on a tabletop barefoot and without so much as a Band-Aid on, while the actives took all her clothing back to her room. The pretty virgin stood nervously, blushing an embarrassed red in the bright lights as the other girls giggled and pointed at her. Luanne felt horribly exposed and vulnerable, intensely aware that there was not so much as a stitch of her clothing in the room or indeed even in that wing of the dorm. She kept looking nervously at a large mirror on the wall opposite the table, mortified at her total exposure. She felt like she was on display.

The actives stared at her and hated her even more intensely. Luanne’s bare breasts were as perfect as could be imagined; full, firm and pointed, with oversized, puffy pink aureolae as big as coffee cups and fat, prominent nipples that stuck out a half-inch. Her big bottom was round and firm, deeply split and as smooth and creamy as could be, without a trace of cellulite. Her belly was smoothly curved, pale and almost flat; her sweet pubis plump and tempting, her soft vaginal crevice visible through her sparse, virginal hair. There we’re no sharp angles on her body–she was all curves, milky-white and flawless. Luanne looked like an angel, but a shapely and sensual one.

The other girls’ jealousy and hatred knew no bounds. They did not frown, though; they laughed and sniggered and smiled cruel smiles as they made Luanne turn and pose and stick out her chest and bend over with her bare feet wide apart. Luanne could not help looking back at the mirror as she showed off her big, beautiful, bare white ass and gently swinging breasts.

The sorority officers came back, carrying…

“Oh, no,” cried Luanne softly.

They were holding an electric clipper, a pan of water, a bar of soap, and a disposable razor. “Oh, no, please…”

Luanne was made to lie down on the table under the bright lights and spread her legs wide, holding her knees back with her pretty bare feet in the air while they shaved her pussy bare from her belly to her asshole. She was soon as pink and hairless as a three-year-old, her plump, tender vagina completely exposed. She was then told to hold her pussy as wide open as she could for “inspection,” her knees back and wide apart and her pretty hands stretching her pink, perfect pussy lips to the max. Poor Luanne’s face was bright red with embarrassment as she peeled her virgin labia back and showed off her tender, intimate opening for the very first time. Luanne was showing off her most intimate secrets, which no one but her female doctor had ever seen, to everyone in the room.

But that wasn’t enough. At the actives’ prompting, Luanne began squeezing her vaginal muscles as blatantly as she could, making her tender, perfect, virgin pussy open and close, squeeze and squelch, as obscenely as could be imagined. She could not take her eyes off the mirror on the opposite wall; she was displaying herself like a shameless whore. Her face was a deep, embarrassed red as she kept up her “cuntal exercises,” as the actives called them.

It would have been even redder had Luanne known she was going out over a live video feed to every fraternity on campus, where the male students watched her “inspection” on enormous projection screens. They whooped and hollered in delight and lust–and recorded pretty Luanne’s bald, three-foot-high, stretched-open and squelching hole–with her pretty pink-cheeked face just above it in the background–on videotapes that would be seen by every male in the college. She was looking right into one of the cameras which was concealed behind the mirror, and the girl working that camera had zoomed in on Luanne’s wide-open cunt, making sure her pretty red face was visible as her squeezing, visibly juicy sex organs filled the screen.

Luanne had been on camera from the moment she had begun to strip, displayed naked to any man or boy who cared to watch.

Day 2

The next day, Luanne noticed the giggling, the pointing, the smirks and the whispered conversations that followed her wherever she went–but she ascribed them to her short skirt, her bare, pale, shapely legs, and the fact that she was obviously not wearing a bra. Luanne’s heavy tits were clearly visible under her clingy blouse, her fat nipples outlined by the thin fabric, and they jiggled and wobbled as she walked. She carried a notebook most of the day as she went to her classes, clutching it to her chest modestly. That made it harder to control her short skirt in the wind, which was constantly threatening to expose her bare ass and shaved pussy. It was a long day for the modest, innocent beauty.

On the second night in the dorm basement, Luanne was once again ordered to stand on the table in the glaring, merciless lights–again, barefoot and totally naked, as bare as a newborn baby, pale and perfect. She wondered what would happen that night as she posed and postured at the actives’ direction, doing backbends and Chinese splits and crawling on her hands and knees. Every pose and move seemed to exhibit her heavy bare tits, her big white ass, and her bare bald pussy, but Luanne hardly noticed. She had no thought of anyone but her sorority sisters watching as she looked at herself in the mirror.

All over the campus, the men were gathering in front of their huge-screened plasma TVs, laughing, opening beers, lighting joints and making sure their VCRs were getting everything. The pretty naked girl on the screen turned and posed innocently, looking into the eyes of her grinning, appreciative audience with an apprehensive expression that only made her seem more exposed and bare. Hundreds of horny men were watching her, but she had no idea of it. That made her exposure that much more exciting to the watching men.

At the actives’ direction, Luanne was squatting low with her bare feet wide apart and her pelvis thrust forward blatantly, facing the mirror and leaning back on her hands, looking at herself and her bare, totally exposed crotch in the mirror–biting her lip in embarrassment at her buck naked display. She felt very unladylike; why, she was even showing off her pink, twitching asshole!

Luanne held that pose as the actives poured warm oil all over her white, naked body, rubbing it in and spreading it till she was thickly coated and gleaming from her bare feet to her hairline. When every square millimeter of her body was shining, she was told to stand up.

“Now dance naked for us, Pledge Luanne,” said Wendy. “Dance dirty. Shake your tits and hunch your pussy and jiggle your ass. Get down and bump your hips like you’re fucking. If you don’t dance dirty enough, you don’t get in.” One of the other girls pressed a button on a boombox in the corner, and a lewd, thumping rock-and-roll beat filled the room.

The shy, modest coed hardly knew how to begin, but after some prompting by the cruel actives, Luanne was shaking her bare, perfect tits and bumping her freshly shaved pussy like a belly dancer, showing off her fat, delicious bare ass and squatting to hunch and stroke her totally exposed crotch, giggling with embarrassment and excitement–barefoot, shaved bare, and as naked as a newborn baby, gleaming all over with the shiny oil.

And all over the campus, men were cheering and whistling and shouting encouragement as they watched innocent Luanne bump and jiggle naked and gleaming with oil.

Luanne felt strange; she was really getting into the music, extremely conscious of her naked, glistening body, and growing sexually aroused as well. Her exposed pussy was swollen, her nipples hard. She was beginning to really work at putting on the nastiest and most obscene sexual display that she could. She had never felt quite that way before…

The girls had had plates of brownies and Cokes before the meeting began, and Luanne’s brownies had been heavily laced with powerful Afghan hashish. Luanne was stoned.

To the actives’–and the avidly watching men’s–delight, the pale, naked, barefoot beauty was soon giving it everything she had. Luanne was half-squatting with her bare feet planted wide apart, snapping her pelvis forward rhythmically to show off her shaved and shining genitals. She was bouncing and waggling her heavy, gleaming, hard-nippled tits, turning and shaking her plump, pale, oily ass, and bending over to stick it out as she arched and hunched and pumped her hips. She seemed unable to close her shapely legs, dancing with her glistening thighs wide apart the whole time.

The music changed, growing faster, the beat more insistent. Luanne jumped and stamped and bounced heavily on her heels, making every square inch of her pale, naked, shining flesh quiver and quake like Jell-O–tits flying, thighs working, bare feet arching and turning. Giggling, Luanne even squatted and stuck out her gleaming, swollen pussy and held it open, working her redly aroused cuntmuscles in time to the music. She bent over and crouched and pulled her fat, gleaming asscheeks apart to show off her flaring pussy lips and her shiny pink asshole, swinging her perfect, glistening tits wildly between her legs, bare feet still wide apart on the oil-spattered table. Then she squatted even lower and stuck out her ass as if inviting anyone watching to fuck her, brushing the table with her swinging tits, her fat, erect nipples leaving trails of oil.

In the men’s dorms and frat houses, there was an uncharacteristic silence, broken only by the occasional exclamation: “God DAMN.” “LOOK at that.” “She’s–oh, shit, look what she’s DOING!” “Look at that bitch GO!” Most of the men had their hands down their pants, and a few were openly jacking off. No one made fun of them. Luanne was not dancing like the usual bored, languid stripper or pole dancer; this was something none of them had ever seen before.

Luanne danced naked for almost an hour. By the time she was done, there was not a single square inch of her oiled and creamy-bare body that she had not displayed as brazenly as possible, not an orifice that she had not exposed and opened and allowed everyone to see inside, not an ounce of pale babyfat flesh she had not shaken and jiggled and tossed wildly in her shockingly filthy naked sex-dance.

Day 3

The next day, Luanne remembered almost nothing. She went to classes with nothing on beneath her clingy top and short skirt again; this time, though, the men watched her with hungry stares, not smirks. Her skin seemed strangely soft and smooth; she wondered why.

That evening, Luanne reported as ordered to the parking lot behind the dorm. She felt more comfortable, since she had been allowed to wear underwear; a skimpy lace bra and a pair of tiny bikini panties under her skirt and blouse. She wondered what it meant.

A windowless van was waiting for her there, with several of the actives standing around it. She was told to get into the back, which she did. Inside, she was told to take off her skirt and blouse; Luanne did so, reluctantly, and waited fearfully in nothing but her skimpy undies.

The van began moving. “Wh-where are we going?” asked Luanne in a tiny, scared voice.

“Your first test, Pledge Luanne,” said Wendy, the chapter president, a homely, lank-haired geek with thick glasses. “The Pledge Run.”

Luanne felt “Oh, no….”

“Yes. We’re going to drop you off on the other side of the campus, and you have to get back to the dorm the best way you can.”

“In my UNDERWEAR?” the pretty coed whimpered.

“That’s what makes it a test.” The van stopped. To her horror, Luanne saw that they were squarely in the middle of the area where the men’s dorms were.

“Not HERE!” she cried, but the heartless girls opened the door of the van and told her to get out.

Luanne could already hear the whistles and whoops from the windows of the surrounding buildings as she climbed out of the vehicle. Standing there on the sidewalk in nothing but her tiny panties and bra and string sandals, she looked around fearfully; every window seemed to be filled with boys, some looking at her through binoculars. She looked back at the girls in the van desperately. “Please don’t leave me here like this!” she begged.

The girls conferred for a moment. “All right, Pledge Luanne,” said Wendy as she got out and came closer. “We’ve decided you don’t have to make the Run in your underwear.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Luanne, relieved. She moved to get back into the van, but Wendy stopped her with a hand to her chest–

–and abruptly grabbed Luanne’s bra between her breasts and tore it away.