
There are two rules at Rochester that cannot be broken without grave penalty.
Rule One: No one is permanently maimed or killed.
Rule Two: Princesses are off limits to dick.
We are the students that live within these halls and we are the students who break all the rules. Capeesh?
Rochester was the private school for the mafia’s progeny. There’s an entire story about how the academy began. Short version starts with two warring families. The war soon extended to every blooded line in America and Europe. No one was safe. Women and children died and Family succession was up in the air. To stop the bloodshed and annihilation of the youngest generations, Rochester Academy opened its doors. Mine was the fifth generation to reach senior year.
The Families took an oath that Rochester was safe ground for those who studied and trained to work or rule the family business. For each Family, the ruler was chosen by birthright. I’m the oldest Brambilla heir and hold the future in my hands or for a better explanation, my dick. My job is to also make an heir, preferably a male born first.
I couldn’t change destiny and I’d be fucking damned if I wanted to. Let me make it very clear, I don’t. What I’ve done is break Rochester golden rules and enjoyed it. There are tons of rules here but only two could get you kicked out of the academy.
One: No one dies and no one is permanently maimed at Rochester.
Two: Princesses are off limit to dick.
Transferring to another school was not happening. Our specialized curriculum made it impossible. I had to graduate on time to appease my old man. If a student at Rochester found out, it would be the kiss of death. Never show your weaknesses and my father was one of mine.
My favorite rule to break had everything to do with the princesses.
His sister was another story. Gloria was a lesbian and we kept that on the downlow. Homosexuality was simply not done within the family. If the cards were different, I’d have eagerly tapped her ass. I’d played with her and her brother since we were in diapers. Gloria had been a sexual wildcat since puberty or maybe before. I’d dreamed about sinking my dick into her tight pussy. My crush was embarrassing when I discovered her secret but she wouldn’t have it.
“If you’ll stop acting so weird, I’ll give you a mercy fuck to get me out of your head,” she said years ago. “A blow job might do it,” I answered.
She gave me the fucking blowy and I stopped acting weird. That’s the fucked-up mafia life for you.
Freshman through junior year I slid between quite a few sheets and many were the forbidden princesses. Forcing a girl wasn’t my style. Making them beg for it was. For most, giving up their V cards was a necessity. Once they graduated they would basically be locked down until marriage.
This was senior year and I had a very special princess on my radar. I hated her with a fury that had no equal. This was her year to step up to the damn plate. It didn’t matter that her eyes held revulsion and her sneer showed contempt.
I owed her family a blood debt and she would be the first to pay. Someday, my father would be gone and I would be in charge. It was part of my plan. Giavanna Rossi would look back on my dick with a dirty smile and a quiver of fear because she would know I was coming for her father.