Lo, A Matron Blooming

Sweetheart of Summa Chi-2

“It’s official, Nyah! Ms. Hallstrom has declared a winner. You are going to be this year’s Sweetheart!"

Nyah found herself gasping for breath. “Are you kidding me? There is no way. I’m just a freshman and I’m...”

“Believe it, Nyah. It’s true.”

“Not me… no way,” she kept saying while the two juniors held her hands and kissed her.

“You are our first Sweetheart of color since your mother...”

“And it’s about time,” the other girl added emphatically.

“Put down that laundry, girl. We are going shopping with Ms. H’s credit card. When we get through with you, you’re going to look more scrumptious than Janet Jackson and you won’t have to worry about wardrobe failures. You can show all the tit you want.”

Clutching the credit card, the two girls watched Nyah part the curtains of the department store dressing room. “She’s a freakin’ goddess!”

“Damn, girl! Look at that ass. I’d like to take you back into that dressing room and f**k you right through those designer jeans!”

“Yeah, don’t I wish? If it weren’t for Sarah and Ms. H, I’d say let’s do it.”

“She looks delicious, good enough to eat. Braless really pops her tits.”

“I’d love to play there.”

“Me too, but we’d better finish our shopping. We have her jeans. They fit like a glove and that indigo denim works so well with her color.”

“Stop it. You’re making me wet. Let’s get her down to Shoes. On the way in, I noticed a fantastic pair of boots on sale with those super spiky heels Ms. H loves."

Later in the day after the two juniors had returned Nyah to her room laden with packages, Nyah met her mother and younger sister, Eliah, for dinner. As she slid into the booth, she gave them each a kiss. Neither her mother nor her sister was wearing a bra. Seeing her mother braless wasn’t a surprise. She never wore a bra. However, seeing Eliah without a bra caught her attention. She looked quizzically at her sister. Eliah glanced down and laughed. “Hey, Nyah, I’m just following in Mom’s footsteps. And so by the way should you.”

“I love the way you look, Eliah. It makes you look sexy and strong. Like Mom,” she laughed. “And I envy your courage. I’m still wondering if my boobs will ever stop growing."

“Listen to my oldest daughter. She thinks she’s too big in the bust. The girls rolled their eyes in amusement. They’d heard this before. “Okay, you two, just hear me out. I’ve been braless since Summa Chi. When I was your age and nursing you two, there was not a blouse in a*****e that would close over my boobs. I had to go braless. Besides, I have always liked the comfort. I have never looked back.”

“So what did you wear back then, Mom?” Eliah asked with an impish tone in her voice.

“What do you think, girl? I wore three-X sweatshirts. They sort of hid my jiggling boobs, which were down to here.”

Eliah laughed. “See what we have to look forward to, Nyah? From my standpoint, braless has everything to do with comfort and who I am rather than being courageous. It’s like Mom says, it’s wonderful to be free and create a scene.” Smiling broadly, Eliah jiggled her breasts at Nyah. Nyah blushed and looked away while her mother laughed and laughed, egging her youngest daughter on.

Eliah was wearing jean shorts and a stretchy jersey top that aptly profiled her low heavy bust line. Her mother was in a long khaki skirt and silk print top. When she sat, her neckline fell open to expose her caramel-hued cleavage. The weight of her breasts resting in her lap drew the silk taut over her erect n*****s, leaving little to the imagination. Mother and daughters all had the same soft dark chocolate eyes, long lashes, and ebony hair.

Even though Nyah was already nearly every bit as large and full in the bust as her mother and bigger than her sister, she felt a stirring of envy when she saw how they shamelessly and proudly exposed their breasts. She wished she could do the same.

“I have news,” Nyah announced. “I’m not supposed to say a word, but…” She yielded to her nervousness and giggled. “We are family and I know you’re behind me. I guess I can trust you. Mom, you were a Sweetheart of Summa Chi… now it’s my turn. I’ve been nominated.”

Her mother and younger sister leapt from their chairs to wrap their arms around her. They laughed and cried, even though they both had said they were sure it was going to happen, maybe not in her freshman year, but it would happen. Nyah had not taken them seriously. She was so naïve, a quality that had always endeared her to others.

“I’m very nervous about going through with this.”

“Nyah, I understand your fear. However, Ms. Hallstrom made the right choice. It’s a great honor, an experience you will never forget. I will never forget my own reign as Sweetheart of Summa Chi. It gives me the willies every time I think of those two boys.” She paused unabashed to savor the memory. “I’m going to call Edna and thank her again. That woman mentored me and I still love her. It’s time we saw each other again.”

Eliah leaned to Nyah and murmured, “Let yourself go. It makes me wet just thinking of what’s to become of you.”

Her mother slapped her mouth. “You shush, child!”

Eliah laughed. “Mom, we know you experienced the same thing.”

Nyah’s mother blushed to the roots of her hair. “You just never mind about that and remember this, girl: you are not too big to go over my knee. Sarah says your sorority sisters are behind you; they really love you for who you are. You have an incredible shape; your boobs are your best asset. Sarah tells me the girls can’t keep their hands off you when they get you braless in the sorority house.”

Eliah cut in. “Mom, please. You’re embarrassing Nyah. She’s barely 18, a lovely freshman who just happens to have a 38J bust.”

Nyah smiled at the compliment. “Thanks, little sister. It’ll be your turn next year. Sarah is eager for you to join Summa Chi.”

Nyah allowed herself to soak up the familial adulation. She realized now how anxious she was for the day when her boobs would be bigger than her mother’s. “Now that I’ve been nominated,” she said, “I know my bra wearing days are numbered. Ms. H. and Sarah will see to that. I can’t imagine going to class and off-campus without a bra. Everyone will be looking at me.”

Her mother gave Nyah’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Darling, that is not a bad thing. You belong on that pedestal.”

“Mom..."

“Be still now and listen to me. Look what it got me. Your father is a good man. He’s wealthy. He loves me and you know he worships my breasts. He even does as I say. Bras are an expensive bother. You are going to be so much more comfortable and look better just letting them hang. As for those sidelong looks I get, you both know neither Daddy nor I would give that up.”

A few days later, the two sorority sisters who had taken Nyah shopping came into her room unannounced and got her out of bed. Sleepy and confused, Nyah stumbled into the shower as instructed. When she returned in a cloud of steam and smelling of apple blossoms, her sorority sisters pulled away the thick towel swaddling her head and then her bathrobe. They made her stand like a child quietly and awkwardly while they toweled her dry, put her hair in a twist, and made her up. They took their time, applying crimson lip-gloss, eye shadow, and liner that brought out the dazzle in her luminescent eyes.

All the while, they fondled and nuzzled her, building her excitement and anticipation. They dressed her in her new clothing: T-thong, garter belt, smoky nylons, indigo jeans, low cut clingy jersey crossover top, and the stiletto boots. The girls had chosen the jersey top to maximize the effect of her n*****s, cleavage, and descending natural fullness of her breasts.

When they had finished dressing her, they crossed her arms behind her and bound her forearms with silk scarves. Her pose lifted the quivering mass of her bosom and spilled a deep, fleshy canyon of cleavage over the vee neckline of her top. The stretchy jersey fabric merged her breasts into a spectacular mono-bosom that arced downward almost to the waist of her jeans. They blindfolded her and led her down the back stairs to the sorority house basement.

The basement was quiet and cool; it smelled faintly of damp and laundry soap. Unable to see, Nyah wondered where the girls were taking her. She imagined a murky corridor she had not been through before. She shivered and whimpered, but the girls ignored her feeble protests. Her boot heels clicked noisily in the stillness. She could hear murmuring as soft as summer rain, then a muted wail. She heard her name being spoken.

Sam?

The sorority sisters paused. One of them released her hold on Nyah. Her footsteps fading into the imagined gloom reminded Nyah of the gossip she had heard upstairs about Ms. Hallstrom’s disciplinary methods, how she saw to her little boys, as she liked to call them. She had assumed it was all just chatter. Faint echoes, whispered pleas, ringing slaps floated through the blackness to Nyah’s ears. Then there was silence and a hissed but quite clear order.

“Be still, you wretched thing! If I tell Ms. Hallstrom, you know what the consequences will be.”

Nyah was sure now it was Sam, poor thing. What had he done to incur Ms. Hallstrom’s wrath; was she exacting her pound of flesh? Whatever the reason, she felt no pity for Sam. The mere prospect of Ms. Hallstrom punishing him sent a shiver up her spine. She loved how the Sorority Mother had ensnared the unsuspecting boy with his huge c**k into her web. What was likely to befall him, she wondered? The question aroused her. Had the girls restrained him; bound and bagged him like a sack of potatoes or perhaps they had tied him to a post? She had no way of knowing, but she knew when this was over she would find out and she would rub his nose in it. She heard approaching footsteps. The sorority sister took her arm again and said nothing, just clucked her tongue. It was as if Sam were nothing but an annoyance.

As they resumed walking, the two girls recited meticulous instructions: what to say, how to act, what not to say. They told Nyah not to worry. Just be yourself, they said. After all, her mother had gone through the Rite. There was nothing to fear. Nyah nodded awkwardly and prayed her skin-tight designer jeans, swaying boobs, stiletto-heeled boots, hairdo, and makeup would please Sarah and Ms. Hallstrom…especially Ms. Hallstrom.

The two young women paused in the musty darkness. Neither one spoke. They stood perfectly still; Nyah could hear their measured breathing. In the overpowering stillness, Nyah heard a muted creak, like an over-stuffed chair realigning its innards. She could sense something near her; there was a new odor like an unseen presence. Could the rumors be true? Did Ms. H. actually consign her errant boys to a forgotten corner of the Summa Chi basement?

“Can you feel it, Nyah? Can you sense it? Think of a c**k as hard as steel.”

Nyah nodded into her blindfold. Quivering lips brushed hers. Hands teased the fabric of her jeans and fondled the swell of her s*x. She shivered as the stiff denim inseam worked its way between the plump lips of her s*x. Beneath the blindfold, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to meet soft lips and tongues. There was a boy next to her! She was sure now. She could smell him, his urgency, and the tangy scent of leather. She could feel adoration emanating from his unseeing eyes.

She was drowning in the erotic vision when the girls abruptly took her arms again. Her breasts wobbled and jiggled as they hurried her along the corridor. In front of her, she heard a door swing open. From behind her, she heard a gasp and then spatters on the concrete floor. Her escorts were laughing as they led her through the door and shut it behind them.

When the sorority sisters removed her blindfold, it was not what Nyah had expected. The musty odor had disappeared. They were in a room lined with rough-cut paneled walls. Candle sconces illuminated the room with a soft flickering light. The room smelled of cedar. Ms. Hallstrom and Sarah were sitting behind a table facing her.