The Peach-Pounding Peters of Peterson Hall, #1

Chapter 6: Paddling, Pounding, and Pondering

As I knocked on the door to the Peters' suite, my mood felt like it was tied to an anchor, pulling me under the surface. I didn't want to return to the club from hell, but what choice did I have? I also didn't want to continue sharing a room with Lincoln after he'd turned out to be more than just a weasel. And my car? What would I do now for transportation? I'd have to learn to take the bus since I'd never had to. Taxis were too expensive. There was no way I'd tell Mom, Dad, and Leah about it because they might suspect something.

The door opened, and Buff appeared with his clothes back on. He formed his signature crooked smirk, knowing he'd won while reveling in my pain and misery. I didn't buy his sympathy. He was never to be trusted. As much as I wanted to trust Hush—the only Peter I'd had an actual conversation with—I still couldn't get myself to trust him out of fear that he'd be obligated to report everything to Buff. He didn't seem like that type, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

I trudged inside the suite, and Buff closed the door. I lowered my eyebrows at all the Peters here, still naked and looking as if they'd been waiting for me. Even Lincoln was here. But why was he on all fours with his hands cuffed, ankles tied together, and his mouth ball-gagged? There was a large towel underneath him too.

Buff got naked and sighed, probably having undressed and re-dressed a million times already because of me. "We almost canceled the initiation ritual. The fact that you came back is proof is that you belong here. You're one of us, Chosen One. You might not understand things right now because you're new, but you will.

I wasn't in the mood to talk. Instead, I took off my clothes because I knew I had to. "Let's just get this ritual over with so I can sleep and figure out what I'm going to do about my car."

"What happened to your car?" Buff asked as if dumbfounded. He couldn't fool me. He'd proven just how powerful he really was after I'd underestimated him.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You look drained."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm fucking depressed. What do you think?"

Buff sighed, but he didn't seem upset. He took my hand. "Come." He led me to the center of the living space where Lincoln was trapped. He looked at the other Peters. "Paddle?"

Twunky nodded. He grabbed a paddle from the couch and handed it to Buff.

Buff then handed it to me with a serious expression. "You were right. Joker made you say those things and recorded everything so he can use it against you." He blew a big breath and cast his eyes on Lincoln. "I always knew you were a piece of shit. A joke. But you hurt one of your brothers, and you have to pay severely for that."

Lincoln trembled as if knowing what he'd gotten himself into.

I swallowed. "I...I thought we were having an initiation ritual?"

"We are," Buff said. "But Joker needs to be punished, and since you're angry and depressed, this is your chance to blow some steam." What was with the super-serious face? He looked at me. "Let all that anger out and paddle his ass."

I started panting. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Besides, you're the Chosen One. You should be the one doing this. This worthless scum is just a wad of gum under your boot. Joker deserves no sympathy, and especially no mercy. Crush him like an ant."

Lincoln started shaking harder, and he burst into muffled sobs from being ball-gagged.

"Shit, Buff, come on. I think you're taking this a wee bit too seriously."

"No, Chosen One. I'm not. When one of us is hurt, the rest of us are. Now, paddle him."

Fuck. This wasn't what I'd expected.