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A Thanksgiving to Remember:
Lambda Alpha Beta - part 2.
Life After the Christmas holiday.
• A new day, a new change.
By the time Liam awoke, Grant Kaiser was long gone. The cool air in the student apartment bit at his skin, a sharp contrast to the slow burn of pleasure still warming his core. Yet, a knot of anxiety tightened in his chest, chasing away the post-coital haze.
Why had Colton Ryder and his nasty alumni friends been so cryptic? Was the role of λ α β Frat President truly meant for him? Liam felt a profound lack of readiness to lead a potentially boisterous group of gay men. Would the Fraternity even accept him in that role?
Grant ‘Hammer’ Kaiser had called the ruling group, the Board. Liam assumed they ran the Vance Foundation. And they apparently expected Liam Moore to step up.
The rough leather sex with those guys was hard, demanding work, but, somehow, it did not feel like Moore was being initiated into the Fraternity at all. It was exceptional to get screwed and be verbally abused by the mature alumni brutes, though. Getting bound and put in his place at their feet. The party after Christmas had lasted three grueling hours, and the shared cuddles with the adults afterward made Liam’s day.
Moore didn’t have a clue what a Frat President actually did. And, frankly, was he even gay enough for them? He’d listened to the alumni Brothers musing about the raw, deep-end activities of their tenure. It sounded less like a Fraternity and more like a sex club. Bum fucking their way sneakily through college. Not letting the outside world know what went on behind the closed doors of Vance House. Leather-and-bondage group orgies seemed to be the norm back then: full leather for the Alphas, and hardcore bondage servitude for the Betas.
Leather Alpha Beta. Their acronym certainly lived up to its secret reputation. Most outsiders referred to the Frat as LAB. But they had no idea what kind of experiments were being conducted in that laboratory. Liam feared this was a forced initiation, and the pressure felt as fundamentally wrong as it did fulfill his needs. He wanted the Brothers to choose the potential Pledge based on his genuine qualities and leadership potential, not simply getting shoved into the deep end of a pool without a life preserver.
Liam smiled to himself. He was thinking back on the initiation Colton Ryder and the Vance Foundation Board members had put him through after Christmas. None of them used any protection either. God, they loaded him up good. They took Moore and let him show off his ‘skills’. Sure, afterward, they sounded impressed. Pleased by the way Moore carried himself. Elated by his newfound sense of style. But they never told the 21-year-old he would have to step up and become their preferred candidate for President.
Conflicted as hell, Lee got up, his muscles aching with a satisfying fatigue, and stumbled toward the shared bathroom up the hallway. The housing director’s DNA was a warm, sticky memento, a sign of a truly memorable encounter. But the question remained: would the rest of the brotherhood accept Liam – the real him – into their demanding inner circle? These last weeks had been a bizarre odyssey. At times eye-watering – but always on an eye-opening and exhilarating learning curve.
• Stepping into the silence.
It was just past 7 AM when Liam decided he needed to clear his head. He could trek across campus to Vance House for an exploratory look. Or maybe, he could drop in on his campus job at the CoCo-café for a free coffee and a chance to greet the morning crew. That alone would certainly offer him a slice of normalcy.
Moore layered up: a cotton undershirt, a long-sleeve tee, and a crisp button-up. The baggy light-blue skater pants hid the black jockstrap and the new kinky leather chaps he wore underneath. A defiant choice against the pre-dawn cold. Liam could have worn a pair of PJs under the pants against the harsh winter air, but the compressing leather felt much nicer. And no one would see.
For the mind-clearing trek across the fresh snow, he pulled up heavy Engineer harness boots. Letting the chaps and jeans fall over the tall shafts, their thick treads promising traction. Above it all went Mama Dee’s massive, blue-and-cream Viking cable-knit sweater, the bulky wool a warm counterpoint to his inner dread.
He added a cotton beanie and thin leather police gloves, opting for style over warmth. Finally, he wrapped the gifted λ α β fleece scarf around his neck. The loyalty accessory had been gifted to him after the adult men fucked the crap out of the Pledge at Colton’s place.
He opened the door and stepped out. The frigid Sterling Harbor sea air hit him instantly, chasing away the fog of sleep and residual heat from Kaiser. Above, the last of the full moon illuminated the pristine snow with a silent, eerie glow. His heavy boots crunched loudly on the frozen powder, the sound shattering the stillness of the early morning.
• A morning disturbance.
Despite the early hour, a few students were already out and about. Or coming home from whatever these men and women did at 7 AM in the morning. In the wooded area between the high-rise student housing and the lecture halls, however, the peaceful quiet was rudely interrupted. Three guys were coarsely accosting a woman. The men let their dick swing in the freezing air as they ordered the girl to warm them up, before they would...
Well, Lee had heard and seen enough. He stomped over and kicked the crap out of those guys. At the beginning of the fall term, Liam had heard about another bout of sexual assaults. But they caught the guy eventually.
Come to think of it, he was part of the LAB, too, but they are supposed to be gay. Liam shuddered. What if he was the reason why λ α β needed a new President? Once those drunk men drooped off, clutching their bruised nuts in shame, Liam gently approached the woman.
“Are you okay, miss? Can I get you some help?” Moore asked softly. Helping the pretty lady off the floor. Her panties lay ripped beside her. Her tear-stained makeup was smeared.
She looked up at Liam and gave him a weak smile, “Thanks, man, no... I am... I think I am okay. You stepped in just in time, though. Thanks.”
As Liam put her back on her feet, she hugged him a little too eagerly. If Moore wasn’t going gay, the old Liam would possibly have taken the opportunity to score a date. But close up, the battered Barbie doll looked more like a cheap ho. So, Liam gave her some paper tissues to put herself back together and left it at that.
The whole ordeal left Liam reeling, though. This could have so easily gone wrong. These men were older than him. “But...” thought Liam to himself, “... things turned out for the best. I saved that woman. Well, I don’t know. Maybe she wanted to get it on with those bastards, and I interrupted. Fuck! I need something hot and black inside me...”
Moore sniggered dirty to himself. Hot and black does sound nice, but let’s stick to a strong morning coffee. And the best place for coffee on campus was the Quad-presso & Community Commons, or ‘the CoCo’ as every SHU student called it. Liam wondered if they were open yet.
• Snowballing at Quad-presso.
The CoCo opened daily at nine, but Liam’s phone read 7:46 AM. He knew the staff would arrive early to set up shop, as Chef Gordon called it. On the quad, dozens of students were screaming and ducking like schoolchildren in a wild, monumental snowball fight. Already, a massive line was snaking around the campus coffee shop, confirming a different kind of rush: people eager for hot drinks or warm sandwiches to chase the lingering cold away. Inside, the Christmas lights twinkled, but behind the scenes, chaos reigned.
Liam found the kitchens in disarray. The student brigade was failing to organize, and the Head Chef, Gordon, was screaming. Waiters from the front-of-house only made things worse. Liam took a deep breath and stepped inside the coffee shop’s back door.
“Hey, bruv. What ya doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a family vaca?” Chef Gordon asked, surprised to see Moore.
“Yes, Chef. Officially, I am off until the first week of January. But, I’ve learned an excellent recipe for hot chocolate.” Moore answered. “Looks like the morning rush is overwhelming the crew. Need a hand, Chef?”
“Do whatever you can do, Moore. I don’t know why Hawthorne opened the restaurant so early. We are not ready. I am going to sack his ass?!” Gordon sighed. It was too early to be this busy already.
Liam grinned and thought, “That entitled prick needs his ass fucked, not sacked!”
Moore took a deep breath and bellowed loudly over the crew, “Yes, Chef!”
Liam’s shout echoed in a tone no one had ever heard the introvert use.
It instantly quieted the 14-strong kitchen student crew. Liam pointed them to their stations and set them to work. Chef Gordon’s lip curled into a subtle smile as Moore instilled a sudden sense of purpose, finally allowing the Chef to communicate and get the job done.
The front-of-house got the same treatment. The manager, Bartholomew Ian Thomas Carrington Hawthorne, III, a 3rd-year Business Major, prioritized chatting up girls. Barty didn’t earn the nickname ‘B.I.T.C.H. the turd’ for nothing. Because, as usual, he left the packed restaurant and its staff without proper direction.
Liam quickly changed into some workwear and washed up. Pulling on one of Gordon’s black Chef’s jackets and a spare apron. He pinned his fancy name badge on: ‘Chef L.O.W. Moore.’
Liam was an amateur cook with no formal culinary training. Still, due to his exceptional natural talent and leadership in the kitchen, Chef Gordon had officially bestowed upon him the title of Sous-Chef. He rarely wore the badge, though, finding the title ‘too posh.’
Unlike Mr. B.I.T.C. Hawthorne, he sported his ‘Manager’ badge like a medallion of sovereign authority. He seemed to thrive on the entitled privilege the campus job conferred upon him, despite his remarkably minimal contribution to the café’s actual operation.
Surveying the overcrowded dining room, Liam made the executive call to halt table service. His voice crackled over the tannoy, asking guests to form a line and pick up their orders directly from the counter to help the staff manage the unexpected rush. This took care of the overwhelming crowd. As orders began flying across the counter like hotcakes, Liam ducked back into the kitchen to commence recreating Aunty Dee’s signature cocoa recipe.
He gave the Chef a taste before selling it to customers. Gordon dumped a shot of rum into his cup and told Liam he was onto a winner. This spiced hot chocolate, which the Quad-presso & Community Commons (CoCo) had never offered before, became the main attraction. Even Liam’s rum-raisin banana fritters and fried donut holes with hot stuffing – a menu addition entirely his own – got sold by the dozens.
The early morning rush lasted right through 12:30 PM. They had to close the restaurant early after selling out everything in one sitting. The walk-in freezer and every pantry shelf were empty, apart from the cash register, whose drawer wouldn’t close anymore, jammed full of cash.
Exhausted, but also delighted, Liam Moore realized the Quad-presso & Community Commons had done a week’s worth of sales in one morning. However, taking on the role of Sous-Chef, Manager, and Coach had been asking a bit much of his own energy. The lack of sleep and last night’s sex with Grant Kaiser may have contributed to his exhaustion as well.
• The stragglers.
Liam had to coax the last few guests out, thanking them for their patronage. That left only one guy sitting at the table in the corner. To Liam’s shock, he wore a scarf like his. This burly dude was a member of Lambda Alpha Beta. If they grew ‘LAB-rats’ like that, Liam Moore was sold; he wanted in, no matter what job awaited him there.
The tall, lean, green-eyed hunk with a modern brown pompadour and trimmed sides made Liam shiver. After gesturing for the staff to leave the corner table undisturbed, Moore gave the brigade a short thanks and changed back into Mama Dee’s cable-knit sweater. With a bottle of water in hand, Liam sat himself across from the older student, watching the man eat the last bit of hot apple pie with pleasure.
“That was quite the show, Moore,” the older business graduate said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’m J.R., by the way. I saw everything. Fascinating to witness the engine seize and then how you rebuilt it on the fly.” He took a sip of his large espresso from a CoCo-café mug.
“Thanks, J.R.,” Liam Moore replied, shaking his head. “It was just a mad rush. Someone had to step up and take charge.”
The stud grinningly looked Liam up and down. Noticing the buff engineer boots and the thick leather of the chaps showing through one of the rips in his baggy skater jeans. It was clear the gay man liked what Liam was hiding in his pants.
J.R.’s roving eyes stopped dead. His green eyes went wide, not on Liam’s face, but on the subtle λ α β loyalty scarf.
Liam had intentionally hung the Lambda Alpha Beta fleece openly around his sweaty neck, hoping for a reaction. He got one.
J.R. slowly set the cup back down. The joking warmth vanished, replaced by a stunned, cold silence that quickly turned into palpable anger.
“Where in the hell did you get that?!” J.R.’s voice was low, flat, and hard. He didn’t wait for an answer. “That scarf is for Brothers only. Dues-paying members who survived six weeks of initiation. You’re a coffee shop employee, freshman. That isn’t yours!”
Liam met his green eyes, his voice steady despite the challenge. “Ask Colton Ryder. The Board thought I earned it early.”
“You... You know... You know Master Colton Ryder? He’s a brute. You’re kidding me. You can’t...” Stammered J.R.
“I know him in every dirty sense of the word, dude. He was my first. I am friends with his Brother. I do like me something hot and black inside me. The entire Board thought I would be a great fit for the Frat. Put my skills to work and get you back on track. Not my words, theirs. I had them all, and they liked what I could do with half a dozen sausages. Turning it into a full-course meal,” Liam quietly answered.
Holding out a hand, he said, “I am Liam Moore, 21, 5’10”, 178 lbs, 7-inch dick, versatile top. Into leather fetish, but new to the game. And you?”
The man looked a little stunned but replied, “James Robert Davies, 26, 6’3”, Canadian, a Senior, I do the finances for LAB. But the Frat is a mess.”
“Okay, no one is perfect,” said Liam laughingly, “... Let’s blow this joint so... Umm... You can show me yours, and I can show... Oh well, I think I’d love a tour of Vance House. I want to join if there is space,” Liam joked.
• Into the unknown future.
The tension in the coffee shop had evaporated instantly when Liam dropped Colton Ryder’s name. James’s anger over the scarf immediately turned into respect and curiosity. He motioned for Liam to follow, his energy shifting from confrontation to determination. James Daniels was deeply impressed that a freshman not only earned the trust of the Vance Foundation Board, but he also possessed the loyalty fleece. It meant that Moore had apparently taken the λ α β Oath. This affection deepened after Liam quietly recounted what Colton had done for him – and to him that Wednesday before Thanksgiving.
Their conversation was easy and natural; they hit it off really well. They talked effortlessly as they crossed the grounds. Still, Liam realized they were leaving campus entirely when they passed the western side-gate. He glanced up at James, raising an eyebrow in question, but the senior kept a steady pace, a slight, knowing smile on his face.
Vance House was one of a row of large, imposing brick buildings just outside the campus fence and down the street toward the harbor district. Protected by walls and thick evergreen shrubs. A secretive, sprawling brick mansion. Intentionally kept separate from the university’s oversight.
Daniels stopped Moore outside the tall cast-iron fence.
“Moore,” James whispered, “... best hide the scarf for now... We’re not supposed to bring guests. And a guest with λ α β swagger? Let’s keep that on the down low.”
“Sure. If anyone asks, you are taking me to see Grant Kaiser to get a prospectus. And you can show me around the house for now. I want to see Colt’s old room. We can warm up there, perhaps?”
“You... Fuck! You know ‘Hammer’ Kaiser, too? Shit, you got friends in low places, Moore,” J.R. joked hotly.
“Hammered that hole shut last night, per his request,” boasted Liam Moore.
“DUDE!” said James Robert Daniels, impressed. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
James Robert Daniels pushed open the heavy oak door of Vance House and stepped into the foyer, Liam close behind. Before the door could swing shut, a fit, strict-looking man with an Irish build jumped off a leather couch in the opulent Gathering room downstairs.
James explained that the guy was Adrian Scott O’Connell, their Sergeant-at-Arms.
“Daniels! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Adrian, a junior, shouted, instantly listing rules. “No unauthorized guests! You know the bylaws! We’re secured, you selfish ass! Someone could have been stroking one out while watching porn, or worse...”
James Robert Daniels, whose easy warmth had vanished, placed a calm, heavy hand on Adrian’s forehead, keeping the tyrant at arm’s length. Liam instantly knew who the dominant Alpha was and who the subservient Beta.
“Calm down, Adrian. This isn’t an unauthorized guest,” James said, his voice flat. He looked past Adrian into the hallway. “Go find our housing director, Grant Kaiser. Tell him to bring a prospectus for Pledge Moore, while I show him around. And don’t worry, I won’t show him more than he needs to know for now.”
As O’Connell slumped away, James quickly explained, “That’s Ass. He was the boyfriend of our old President, the one who got caught molesting girls on campus.” Liam nodded. The picture was slowly forming. Realizing these preppy guys were in desperate need of some fresh guidance. The trick was to find a way for them to accept Moore as their new President without electing him.
• Vance House.
James clapped Liam on the shoulder, his earlier warmth fully returned. “Come on, Pledge Moore. Let me show you what you’re signing up for.”
Vance House was a palace compared to the concrete jungle Liam was accustomed to. The sheer scale was breathtaking; the foyer alone, with its sweeping mahogany staircase and glittering chandelier, was much larger than his entire previous dorm suite. James led him through the ground floor, detailing its opulent features: high ceilings, crown molding, paneled walls, and antique leather furniture that looked priceless.
The 1st floor was dedicated to various amenities. Beyond the foyer, the guys walked into the Grand Lounge, next to the Dining Room and across from the Kitchen. James paused, gesturing toward a large, imposing portrait over the fireplace. It depicted two burly Latino ranchers: A young Peter Vance and his father dressed in old leather. “This is why the house is called Vance House,” James explained quietly.
“Peter Vance was the first OG λ α β pledge back in 1904, but he was exiled from campus for being openly gay back then. And frankly, I can see why. Apparently, he was a brute in the saddle. His father built this mansion specifically to house Peter and a new secret chapter of Leather Alphas and Betas, away from the university’s prying eyes.”
The open explanation earned Daniels some scowling looks. Liam greeted the men sitting in the downstairs Gathering Lounge, but got a look of suspicion back from them. It had been over a year since a new Pledge had been introduced into the fold.
James showcased the Game Room and the Music and Media Room, with its small stage and a huge cinematic TV. But the real draw was the exercise wing: an indoor 25-meter swimming pool with an enormous communal hot tub. Their tour paused when both men grinned dirtily upon spotting a forgotten black dildo and butt-plug resting on the tub’s edge. Liam felt James’s hand stroke his lower back, and winked up at the Senior. Feeling his balls tighten and his dick swell.
“Yep, nice place to work out and... umm... relax?” murmured Liam, staring over the steaming pool.
The pool’s turquoise waters, shimmering under vaulted skylights, felt more like a resort feature than a student perk. J.R. noted that the space near the pool was kept empty for parties. He stated, disappointedly, that it used to house the Frat’s gym, hinting with a grimace that the equipment was ‘moved to a different location by the previous President.’
Liam instantly recalled the rumor whispered by a Board member: a hidden stairwell behind a movable bookcase off the Grand Lounge, leading to the basement’s depths. He concluded that the workout gear must have been moved there. Eager to peek, Liam kept his knowledge secret, knowing James would never reveal λ α β secrets to a noob like Moore. Daniels was too invested in this place and its history.
They ascended to the second-floor library and study. The rest of the floor was dedicated to smaller bedrooms, though even these were almost twice the size of Liam’s old room. Complete with a shower and a kitchenette. Moore was met with more scowling faces poking from their doors.
James paused at his home away from home. “Welcome to my crib.” Daniels’ room was equally impressive, furnished with light wood and rich furniture. His half-open wardrobe confirmed his taste for high-quality leather attire.
“The walls and floors are decently soundproof. Only if your sub screams bloody murder, the rest would know,” joked James. Liam grinned nastily. He would not mind getting it on with this Canadian hunk. The louder, the better. Liam admitted, “Good thing the walls are soundproofed, I do like it verbal.”
The freshman noticed James covertly adjust his itching dick.
“Now for the real tour,” James murmured, pulling Liam up four more flights of stairs in the massive, half-empty building. The higher they climbed, the larger the rooms became. The central tower housed four bedrooms and a couple of offices. Even larger in space than the floors below. Moore inwardly worried if he could afford a massive upgrade like this.
Daniels led the freshman into the sun-filled, spacious south-wing paneled room that once belonged to Colton Ryder. It had obviously not been used for months, but still radiated a classic authority.
• Plunging into the deep.
James didn’t hesitate; he immediately pushed Liam against the door, claiming the territory and setting the tone. James took charge, his hands moving quickly to pull Liam closer, their mouths meeting in a heated kiss that left no doubt about the Senior’s intentions. Heavy petting began instantly, hands exploring under sweaters and shirts, confirming their mutual desire.
James took complete control. Liam’s sweater was lifted off his torso, and the belt of his ripped, baggy skater jeans flicked open. With nothing holding them up, the loose-fitting pants instantly dropped to the floor. What they revealed were the tight-fitting chaps and a bulging black jockstrap underneath. The view took Daniels’ breath away.
“Damn, bruv!” James gasped. “You’re ready for action.”
“Ready and willing... Sir,” replied Liam.
“Skip the Sir. I think you’re a top, right? Well, so am I. But hell, Moore, I like your style.”
Daniels’ breathing became ragged. He clutched Moore tightly, grasping the freshman’s exposed buttocks and letting both his middle fingers explore the chasm. He wanted in there, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. James had not met a guy in this much leather in a while. He was loving it.
Liam’s breath hitched as James’ pants came off. He wasn’t just impressed; he was mesmerized. The ten-inch length was certainly a sight, but it was the studded leather strap that drew Liam’s eye – it cinched the base, forcing the plump, shaved balls to hang taut and beautifully exposed. The sight was magnificent, but as Liam shifted his weight, his stomach gave a warning twinge.
James took both their dick’s in one firm, warm hand. His thumb hooked over Liam’s helmet, stroking a slow, mesmerizing path toward a raging erection. Ready for the real work. As James leaned in for a kiss, Liam pulled back slightly, his breathing abruptly shallow. James paused, his eyebrows raising in question.
Liam managed a tired, sheepish half-grin. “Hey, can we maybe skip the anal for today?” He whispered, his voice gravelly. “I’m honestly too stuffed from taste testing those banana fritters and cocoa. And I do not want to risk painting your dick.”
The efficient suggestion – practical and slightly crass – didn’t deter James. Instead, it seemed to deepen his desire, as if he were dealing with an equal. He looked Liam straight in the eyes, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper. “I have to confess something, Liam. I... I’ve never actually let anyone screw me.”
He paused, then his eyes flickered down to the leather chaps exposed after the frantic undressing. “But seeing you in that leather... I think I’d be willing to change that. Go ahead, Moore. Stuff me instead.”
“Nah, Brother Daniels. We may be both tops, but there is always an Alpha that outdoes us both. How about we start things off easy?” Liam suggested.
Dropping to his knees, hearing the leather of his chaps creak, he began worshipping the exceptionally long dick. His tongue went up and down the ten-inch shaft and circled the plump nuts, listening to the gasps of pleasure above him. Once Liam lifted the dong, he noticed a tiny silver ringlet fastened in the crease below Daniel’s sack. Just under his ballsack was a petite, butch piercing – a hidden silver ring that looked surprisingly delicate.
“I didn’t know you could have one of those there,” thought Liam to himself. A hornily appreciative smile formed on his mouth. His lips traced around the lorum and went over the perineal raphe, ending up at the dripping glans. Moore sucked up the juices and swallowed hard, having to place Daniel’s hand on the top of his head to have him take control. And boy, did James take action. He instantly started deep-throating Liam. The college freshman just looked up with gleeful eyes. This was the kind of welcome he expected from the gay Fraternity senior.
• Getting caught.
Moore had to ease off the long fuck stick after two or three minutes. Not because Daniels was causing him distress, but Liam noticed the man was getting close – too close. So he pulled off and got up, giving the horny bastard a tight hug and a deep kiss, suggesting to the man that he wanted to rim Daniels’ hole.
Ordering him, or maybe it was a gentle suggestion, for James to bend over the massive oak desk that dominated the office side of the Presidential bedroom. It was a battleship of a desk, carved from deep, near-black historical oak, its surface easily spanning at least ten feet.
This piece was a centerpiece heirloom of the Alpha’s domain. An elegantly embossed, leather writing mat lay anchored in the center, silently inviting high-stakes decisions – or, for this afternoon, something much more visceral and carnal.
Behind it stood the President’s throne: a high-backed executive chair of matching dark leather, its polished brass tacks glinting softly under the muted light, a silent testament to the wealth and power concentrated in this room. Liam pushed James between the two rich visitors’ chairs and toward the opulent bureau. Twirling the 26-year-old around and bending him over the desk. Diving between the cheeks, Liam shamelessly lapped his tongue around, over, and inside the pulsating sphincter.
The slurping and spitting sounds mingled with James’s loud, grunting moans. The man had died and gone to heaven on a prayer and a half. For someone who had never been fucked, he certainly loved being eaten out and fingered.
Liam stood up and spat on his dick, placing the wet tip against the back door. Both men breathed hard and grunted. James let out a scream as Moore pushed slowly inside. The wet hole took him, but Daniels froze, so Liam eased off the pressure, giving James a moment or two to get used to the sensation. Kissing his neck. Suckling on an earlobe. Talking dirty.
Moore just grinned to himself, thinking back on how Colton Ryder had nailed his ass with that massive nine-inch fat ebony slong of his, taking Liam’s virginity in one go, without remorse. Moore wasn’t about to do the same to Daniels, but he sure liked the tightness of this hole.
“You’re doing great, Brother. Breathe and let me in there. Don’t make me rape your ass like Colton did to me last month. Breathe and relax. That’s it! Fuck, you got a nice ass, man. You should let more guys in there.”
“Yeah... Umpff... Fuck... That’s a big dick, man... But I am a Top!” James Daniels uttered.
“Well, then order your subs to top you. Take control of their dicks. Make them your dildo. Use them. Order them around. That’s what I did to Colton. I took his ass, and he let me, while he controlled the action. Great fun. I guess that’s what landed me the job of Frat President,” Liam breathed into James’s ear, not thinking of the consequences of those words.
Moore watched Daniels shudder, wonder, and relax in the space of a heartbeat. He did not stop to think but stuffed his entire length inside, past the prostate and the tight second ring, rearranging James’s insides. He pounded the business graduate’s guts until the sloppy wet sounds started, and the leather of his chaps began sticking to Daniels’ soggy ass.
With their backs to the apartment door, they had not seen – or heard – Grant Kaiser come in. He had his phone in one hand and a prospectus and a rule book in the other.
“Making good use of the amenities, I see, Lee,” he sneered from the hall. Liam froze and pulled out rather painfully.
“Mr. Kaiser?! Can’t you knock?” bellowed James Daniels, looking over his shoulder and clasping his aching ass.
As Moore turned, he blinked in disbelief at the man standing behind him. Gone was the ‘Hammer’ he remembered – the menacing skinhead in the navy-blue bomber jacket, through-zipper black bleachers, and submissive leather choker. The stubble had been scrubbed away, leaving a cleanly shaved face that looked unsettlingly wholesome.
Kaiser was now draped in a respectable blazer over a khaki skipper’s sweater and a crisp button-up office shirt, finished with plain brown pants and unremarkable shoes. He looked less like a weekend predator cruising for sex and more like a dependable house father. It was as if the man had a split personality: a nasty Lonsdale skinhead for the dark hours, and a straight-laced academic for the school week.
“Oh shut up, Rob. Your secret is safe with me. And, guys, don’t stop on my account. I just came to give Lee his paperwork and the President’s master keys. Moore, I had a call from the Board. They approved your Executive Housing Waiver if you agree to lead this bunch of misfits and get the Leather back in Lambda Alpha Beta.”
“Wait... Who... Huh?... Who the fuck is Lee?” Daniels stammered.
“That is what my friends call me... Umm?... Rob, is it?” grinned Liam Moore. “So... Where do I sign, Mr. Kaiser? Can’t say no to a free space in a gay Frat, now can I?”
“Nope. I guess you shouldn’t. It will be hard work, though. You’ll need to adjust your BBA course load,” Kaiser advised. “The Board will coordinate the paperwork to shift you to a five-year degree path. We really need to get a new Fraternity President, and you need to give Rob some extra help with the finances during his Comprehensive Exam. All you need to do is sign up for the job.”
Still not entirely sure he was the right man for the task, he asked Grant Kaiser, “Yeah, all good and well... But... I can’t just walk in from the cold and start bossing the Frats around, now can I?”
“Good point, Lee. HA Ha ha,” James Robert Daniels laughed. “You need to out-top the tops and conquer all the subs.”
• Moving up in the world.
Liam looked from James’s long dick to his own, then to Grant Kaiser, saying, “Well, are you staying or going? Give me thirty minutes, and you can introduce me to the Brothers once I am done with this one.”
The housing director smirked and left the prospectus, keys, and rulebook as he walked out.
Moore asked Daniels if he wanted it missionary style on the dusty, bare black rubber mattress, watched over by Colton on his bike.
As Liam mounted the warm, slick hole, he looked up at the portrait of Colton Ryder. The leather brute had a compelling look in his brown eyes. His hair wasn’t as long, but damn, the biker thug was dressed for action, too.
And suddenly it hit Lee what he needed to do. An unbidden scene from the movie Sister Act flashed through his mind.
“Congratulations, you’re the new mayor of Sodom and Gomorrah.”
“Keep the faith, Brother. Remember our lord said; Oh ye be strong of Will.” “And ye better be tough as nails, too.”
Why this popped into his mind now, Liam did not know. But he was thankful for his parents forcing him to watch that Christian crap every Christmas.
However, this gave Liam an idea of how he would win over the Brothers of Lambda Alpha Beta. Becoming their teacher and role model, young as he was at 21. Moore was going to make them submit to him. All eighteen of them. Well, seventeen, Daniels was shooting rope after rope of heavy clotted cream while Liam was nailing his Canadian ass with force. One down, seventeen to go.
The two finished up with a hot shower. Lee was a little surprised when he felt the warm yellow stream hit his back. The disgusted look he gave Daniels could not prevent the bastard from emptying his bladder. Good thing the hot water washed the smelly piss away quickly. Liam slammed the back of his hand on James’s chest in anger, but then smiled at the look of his apologetic friend. A new lesson: Moore was no fan of degrading watersports.
The two dried off and got dressed, walking arm in arm down the main stairwell back to the Grand Lounge. The Housing Director had gathered most of the Brothers there to introduce the ‘new Pledge’.
“Guys, Listen up. This is Pledge Moore. The Vance Foundation Board has initiated the stud, so you don’t have to!” said Kaiser.
A nasty, disapproving murmur went around the room.
“What?! We don’t get to fuck the crap out of a new Pledge? What the hell is going on here?” shouted the Sergeant-at-Arms, Adrian Scott.
Calm and collected, Liam said, “Oh, you’ll get your chance, brother Ass. Although I normally don’t let bitches fuck me, boy. But don’t worry about that now.”
A collective shudder went around the room. Liam watched and learned, saying, “Only, I need a hand to move. Does anyone have a truck? And I can use five or six guys to carry my stuff down the tower block. I have some furniture and a lot of leather gear to move across campus.”
Daniels pointed at six of the men, all fairly fit but obviously subservient, ordering them to follow Liam on foot to the concrete student jungle to help Moore move up in the world. J.R. would follow in his Ford F-250 Baja.
• Getting to know the Frats.
Liam led the six guys across campus and through the concrete student jungle to his eleventh-floor apartment. The men chatted nervously; there was something about the Moore guy that intrigued them.
To Liam, the young men’s subservient energy radiated almost palpably. Once inside the confined space of the apartment, Liam wasted no time. He stripped out of his baggy skater pants, letting the denim pool around his ankles, revealing the stained leather chaps beneath.
The men grouped together, unsure where to look. The student apartment was truly too small for this many guys. They watched as Liam pulled on his leather fuck pants, which featured a zipper running from front to back. He turned to the guys and adjusted his bulging package. A sneaky grin played around his mouth.
The transformation was instant and deliberate. The college men nearly fainted as they watched Liam transform into his leather persona. He pulled off his Viking sweater and replaced it with his tough biker jacket with black zips and snaps. All six of them wore simple, plain college clothes – not an ounce of leather in sight – and the contrast immediately emphasized who held the power.
Liam lined them up in the middle of the room and dominantly crossed his arms. The air in the apartment crackled with nervous tension.
“I need to see what I have to work with,” he stated brusquely, and ordered them to jerk off. This was his process for deciding their place in the Lambda Alpha Beta hierarchy. Looking shyly at each other, the men slowly took action, their hands moving tentatively beneath their waistbands.
Moore had to step in and ordered, “Drop those pants, guys. You’re no virgin. I bet you fucked around together at λ α β plenty of times. Well, guess what, I am your new master. NOW, drop dem socks and grab dem cocks, boys!”
Liam watched each nervous face, assessing not just their bodies, but their willingness to obey. He found the hesitant movements underwhelming.
“Faster! Get them hard. I want to see you bust your nut!” Liam barked, injecting absolute authority into his voice.
Changing up the game, Moore ordered the guys to stroke the man to their left, barking sharp instructions to each in turn – telling one where to squeeze, another where to watch. He fingered a few of the bottoms to get their juices flowing.
The line became a chain of shared, anxious pleasure. Liam didn’t just command; he participated, going down on a few of the guys himself, ensuring they understood that his dominance was total. The session reached a fever pitch quickly, punctuated by gasps and the sharp thwack of dirty nuts clattering loudly on the worn linoleum floor as the six men came together.
“Six done, eleven more to go,” thought Liam with a satisfied grin, watching the men scramble to recover. The scene had been the perfect, brutal introduction. As the men began gathering his belongings, efficiently packing books, furniture, and leather gear into the moving boxes James Daniels had brought up, they knew their roles. They were no longer just Fraternity brothers; they were soldiers in Liam’s new army, secured with sweat and submission. The move was underway, and the foundation of Liam’s Presidency was being laid, one whimpering Brother at a time.
Liam was grateful these six men appeared to have accepted his leadership. And by the glint in some of their eyes, he even suspected that his choice of clothes impressed some of them, too. He told them to bring his stuff to Colton Ryder’s room. It was then that they understood that Liam Moore was their new Fraternity President.
• The Sergeant-at-Arms.
Liam Moore, in his full leather outfit, was glad the sun had already set. After a quick clean of the empty student apartment, he walked by himself to Vance House. Given the college’s hesitant stance toward gays, he was deeply unsure about parading his kinky leather kit – a public first for him – across campus.
So, Liam took the long way around, off campus and through town, grabbing an Egg McMuffin and a protein shake on the way. Thankful for the snow, which had started falling again, thick and heavy. It offered him a welcome obscurity from the world.
When Lee turned down the hall toward his room, Adrian O’Connell shadowed him, his face tight with determined loathing. Adrian’s voice cracked with rage: “Where do you think you’re going? Who gave you a key to the house? Do you hear me? Answer me!”
Liam ignored the American Irish lad. He hung his rugged leather jacket on the coatrack and sauntered over to the desk. A stack of papers had been placed on it for Liam to sign.
All his gear was neatly hung in the wardrobes of the Frat President’s room when he came home. The space felt less like a typical dorm and more like a high-end hotel suite. Colton’s portrait was overseeing the room. All Moore had to do was stamp his own mark on it.
The expansive, custom-built king bed was perfectly made by the brothers, too. Over the foot of the bed lay a supple leather throw. It matched the black leather slipcovers over the four pillows.
Liam’s computer gear was already installed on the massive oak desk, and below the imposing furniture, the classic wooden floorboards gleamed, freshly mopped to a deep shine.
“This room is for Fraternity Presidents only.” Adrian continued his rage inside Moore’s room, “... First years never make President at λ α β. Who the Hell do you think you are? Get... Get out, freshman!” O’Connell faltered, his voice thick with loathing.
“Dude, shut your trap! I am sanctioned by the Vance Foundation Board, and I am a Legacy Brother.”
Well, he wasn’t a ‘Legacy’ by bloodline, but in the Vance Board’s terms, he was now an investment. Liam silently handed the 22-year-old bulldog the contract. It had the signatures of the entire Board, naming Moore as President of Lambda Alpha Beta.
Adrian snatched the contract and scanned the signatories. “But... But... This... Huh?... I don’t...”
“I am sure your butt will get to know me in time. For now, best to stop resisting the inevitable. I don’t like it much either, to be honest. But we can set up an initiation gathering on Friday the 30th, Brother Ass.”
Liam quietly explained, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm, “... In fact, we need to undo the changes your ‘boyfriend’ made to the basement. Get the gym equipment moved back upstairs by the pool. The dungeon is for initiations and parties. Colton Ryder won’t be happy if he sees what you and that Russian Comrade Oliver ‘can-I-take-some-more’ Petrov has done to that place. What did you see in a guy like him? Fucking girls left, right, and center.”
“I didn’t know...” Adrian O’Connell gasped, a cold knot tightening in his gut. How much did Moore know? Ass and Petrov had been meticulous about changing the basement since last year. The jailed and De-Frocked Brother, Petrov, was never a fan of all that gay stuff in the cellar. He was a bi guy in a gay world and the wrong fit for Frat President to begin with. And the Board had told Liam just enough to make him see what needed to be done to get Lambda Alpha Beta back on track.
Liam paused, letting the names sink in, then leaned forward. “Yes, Ass, I know all about the modifications you two made. But that’s going to change back to the way it was. Oh, and I want to see some leather on the Brothers. This is Leather Alpha Beta after all! A Frat for Masters and Slaves, Alphas and Betas. Dom’s and Sub’s. Not some chess-playing sorority of pansies. We are Real Men! Gay Men! And Proud Men. We are not hiding from the world. We are what we are.”
Liam watched Adrian O’Connell shudder and added, “... Get on board, Adrian, or get out! The Russian rapist, Petrov, got what he deserved!” Liam spat the words.
He dropped his voice again, issuing the final, chilling order. “Find yourself a new master and be the best hole you can be for him. You can stay on as Sergeant-at-Arms, but we are rolling back the house rules. We are no longer hiding from the world, and we need to recruit. Get us out of this slump, Adrian.”
Liam stood for a moment, savoring the chilling silence Adrian left in his wake. The confrontation was settled, the message delivered. Now the real work began. He immediately messaged Grant Kaiser about the changes he wanted to make. Moore inquired about a back entrance to the basement to get his bearings without alerting the other members. Grant told him he could walk around the building to the basement’s walkout door on the terrace.
Moore did not like what he found down there. The basement had been neutered. Where the dark, velvet-lined corners of the ritual rooms once stood, there was now only the fluorescent glare of a sterile gym. The newly added sports bar was a monument to plastic stools, cheap beer, and fake sports memorabilia; it didn’t even sport the SHU colors.
It was a performance of straight-edged forced normalcy. The leather-bound sanctuary Colton and the Board had described was gone, and with it, the safe space where the brothers could be their authentic, sexual selves. The Vance House dungeon hadn’t just been renovated; it had been censored away.
• A late-night audience.
Liam had spent quite some time turning the Alpha’s room into his new home. He worked with practiced efficiency, finding permanent homes for his kitchen appliances. Unpacking the moving boxes and restocking his fridge and the liquor cabinet. But the physical settling was the easy part.
The real work began when he cleared a spot on the desk for the ‘Revised λ α β Chapter Bylaws and Code of Conduct.’ Flipping through the pages, he began reviewing the restrictions implemented last year. His eyes scanned the text for every hint of the censorship that had already claimed the basement.
The clock on Liam Moore’s phone glowed 11:47 PM – Wednesday, Dec. 28th. He had finished polishing his pointy ankle boots and was scrubbing the salt from a pair of engineer boots, when a sudden, sharp series of knocks made him pause. He wondered who could possibly be seeking his services this late, but then he remembered: he was their new President. This was his first real opportunity to provide guidance to a Brother. Frowning, he called for the visitor to enter. On the threshold stood Benjamin Manlove, a stocky freshman, vibrating with rigidity.
Benjamin was the only Brother Liam knew from his classes. Just hours earlier, he’d been one of the six guys who had helped Liam haul his life out of the concrete high-rises and into Vance House. At nineteen, the crude British Scally lad was the youngest in the Fraternity, and he stood now with his shoulders bunched. Liam recognized the fighting spirit beneath that buzz cut; he motioned him in, acknowledging the silent weight of his newfound authority.
“Manlove. You know the rules about visits after curfew. This better be critical.” Seeing the young man shudder, Liam softened his tone. “So, Ben, what’s up?”
Benjamin Manlove stammered, his anxiety breaking through into his coarse Scally dialect. “Guv’nor Moore. Sorry, mate. Proper sorry for the lateness. It’s about the submission shite. And all the fuckin’ rules, innit?” Liam raised an eyebrow, having to quickly translate what the English bulldog pup tried to explain.
“Brother Daniels said you want the fuckin’ Frat back into leather and domination,” Ben admitted, his voice switching to a rougher tone, “Guv, I’m proper sorry about this. It’s about the... the kit, innit? And all the submission stuff. I ain’t got any proper leather gear. I like your look – proper, like a gaffer in leather with a nasty attitude. Still, all I’ve got is these Scally tracksuits, some camos, and skinhead stompers. I feel like a right prat without that stuff. I don’t even know if I fit the bloomin’ sub part.”
Liam fixed his eyes on Ben, hoping he understood the dawg correctly.
“Ah, I comprehend. That is because you are not a true bottom, Ben! You just need to embrace your Alpha side, bud. You’re disciplined, observant, and built to lead, not to take orders. Hack, I saw you fight 3 guys at once, just so they would let Brother Dubois be. If you compare yourself with Dubois, you’ll see you’re no pansy like him. Besides, the Frat doesn’t need another supplicant. And you got the potential to grow in your role here,” said Moore, confidently over his shoulder as he walked away to the large wardrobe.
Liam returned, carrying three items carefully draped over his arm: a sleek, supple, polo-cut leather shirt with a matching leather necktie, and a pair of heavy butch gauntlets. These, Moore intended, would give the man the authority Benjamin appeared to lack.
“Take off your fuckin’ Lonsdale sweatshirt, Brother Ben,” Liam ordered curtly. “I have something for you to try on.”
“Umm... Guv?... I am just a Pledge. Petrov did not want me indoctrinated into the Brotherhood, innit. The blooming A’-hole. I knew he wasn’t a proper Alpha.”
“Oh... I do beg your pardon. I need to review your file, Pledge Manlove. But with your permission, we can fix that. That is, if you still want in, Ben. Now, take off your shirt, bitch. Show me dem titties!”
The stocky bull-like Scally obeyed with a dirty grin. Liam gestured to Benjamin to come closer so he could get kitted out for his new role. Ben dropped his shirt, and Moore’s eyebrows raised, seeing the rough occult defiant tattoos on Benjamin’s well-defined pecs and pierced nips. This dude was no choir-boy.
Liam brushed a hand over the hard-man and grazed his lips over Manloves. The dude had anticipated the bold move and tilted his head to receive a small kiss. Feeling Moore’s other hand momentarily cup his cock and balls.
“You came here seeking to submit to me, but I see a ready mind to lead. This is your foundation. Frankly, we’ve got a problem at Vance – a two-to-one ratio of bottoms to tops, and those numbers are skewed against us. We need fit men who can enforce the rules when the other tops are occupied.”
Liam held out the sturdy leather gauntlets. “Now, put them on, Pledge Manlove. These should help you win a few more fights for us.”
Ben’s eyes lit up as the gauntlets enclosed his lower arms. Liam helped knot the leather tie and transferred it to Benjamin as he put on the supple leather polo shirt. Smoothing the shirt’s color over the tie.
“There you go. At least now you look the part of a proper Alpha, even though you’re still a bottom Pledge for now. You can borrow this for Friday. Think like the nasty scally bully you are. One thing, though, NO ONE KNOWS YET. So don’t go blabbing about the orgy I’ve got in mind for the Frats.”
“Nah, mate. Dis is Proper wicked, thanks! Lookin’ like a hard-man, innit? I won’t let the rest know, promise. But I reckon Brother Daniels is already on the know, though.” Manlove said grinningly.
“That’s okay. We like that bull, don’t we?” Liam smirked. Suspecting Daniels had taken this Scally for a few test rides as well.
Liam rudely pulled Ben’s prancing dick free from his shiny Adidas pants and got a shock. The nineteen-year-old was properly hung. Eleven inches and stiffer than the frozen metal flagpole outside.
“Wow, will you look at that? Wanna see if you can make that thing fit inside me? Help me warm the bed, and take my ass like the coarse bastard you were always meant to be.”
Ben’s breath hitched as Liam wildly tore off his own clothes and lay nude on the bed, ordering the English freshman to sit on his rock-hard seven inches. Manlove kicked off his sneakers and dropped his pants.
“You can wear this, and put it over some jeans you don’t mind getting ripped open for Friday’s orgy.” As simple as the leather look was, it worked for someone like Benjamin.
Ben ran a thumb over the stitch lines of the kinky, protective gauntlets. They felt like armor, a promise of dominance – a shield against the role he had feared. He realized he could easily buy his own pair and wear them hidden beneath a long-sleeve office shirt at college or during his internships. He glanced up at his Frat President with a dirty grin. He seemed to grasp the full implications of the task.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, the anxiety giving way to a new, deep resonance. “Understood.”
Ben straddled Liam, lowering himself, letting his hole engulf the slicked-up heat of Liam’s manhood in one deep, grunting sigh. Once all the way inside, Liam pushed up, making Benjamin groan as the two men began a late-night workout.
The two flipped and pounded for more than forty minutes. They took their time between sessions, talking and learning from each other. Moore taught the English bull to swear like an American sailor on shore leave as Ben rode Liam’s taut hole.
After several intense orgasms, Benjamin cleaned up and hugged Liam in thanks and staggered back to his room, still wearing the leather polo and gauntlets.
Exhausted after the heavy action, Liam showered and smirked at his reflection. “One more done. Fuck, he was huge. He made it fit, though. That’s what counts. I do like his, but it does put mine to shame.”
It was already nearing 1 AM, and there was so much left to do. The bottoms at Lambda Alpha Beta almost sorted themselves. Still, Moore’s worries lay with convincing the Alphas – or at least those who saw themselves as tops. To Liam, the road from Bottom to Top wasn’t a static label; it was a fluid scale, a ladder that every man had to climb. He believed the Brothers should start on the lowest rung the day they joined, using their college years to be educated and hardened for the professional world awaiting them after graduation.
James had warned the new President, however, that most of the men were content to stand still; they only called themselves Alphas so as not to be branded as Bottoms. Liam knew that if he was going to lead the Brotherhood, he had to teach them that the ladder only worked if you had the drive to actually climb it.
As Liam put on his bedclothes and a warm nightgown, he noticed several messages on his phone. Colton Ryder, David Garcia, and his cousin Eric Moore had all texted Liam at this hour of the night. Intrigued, Liam opened the app and started reading.
• Continued in part 6 •
Thank you for reading this story.
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© StrykerJ - Christmas 2025
