Daphne

(30) Saturday

Musically: "Roo – ose..."

"Uuuhhnnn..."

Rose felt someone shaking her.

"Rise and Shine, sleepyhead!"

More shaking.

She opened an eye, then the other, and looked up to see the silhouette of a woman wearing a hood over her head. She started to stir.

"Uuuhhnnn..."

"Hi, Rose! I knew you'd be hungry, so I picked up orange juice, coffee and a couple of fast-food breakfast sandwiches for us. I hope you like eggs and sausage!"

Rose pushed herself up and as she regained consciousness realized that the girl was Black.

"Who are you?" Rose peeled the cover off an O.J.

"I'm not Thyme. Like the spice."

"Hi. I'm not Rose."

"Yeah, I know. You're Tammy's friend. Wow! How lucky are you? Anyway, I'll be here with you for the next set. Then I'm going to get my unblemished black butt the hell out of here before Cecil and Harvey show up. I mean, it'll probably be OK. I hear Tammy'll be with you for that and the word is that they always really lay into her, so they might leave you alone... mostly... So, how was your first day?"

Rose dug into the bag and retrieved the sandwiches, handing her companion one as she spoke. "It was scary but delicious. But I have a feeling that it's not common for a parade of women to fight over who gets to strip and humiliate herself with the 'virgin'."

"Hah! You really are getting special treatment, that's for sure. The first time is bad, but they're good around here, holding your hand and easing you in. For me the second time was the real 'first time.' Whatever happened yesterday, or today or tomorrow, it's divided by two. When you come back – if you come back, that is – the experience of being naked and touched by strangers won't be a total shock and you already know all about that – and it looks like you can handle it OK. But the difference will be that it'll be you – just you – all alone up here. No sisters to hold your hand. Except for Terry, you know, during breaks. If you thought last night was 'scary but delicious', just wait 'till you're up here all alone and the other half of everyone here gets to play with you. It's way scarier, but also way more intense." Thyme shivered, then convulsed slightly. She sighed in delight and opened her eyes: "Whew!... Well, it was for me... Every girl handles it differently. That was six months ago and now I can't stay away. I'm like a moth to the flame."

An hour later the pair were bent over backwards, face-up, their wrists and necks securely locked in wooden stocks. A part of the device jutted horizontally, pressing against the smalls of their backs, preventing them from moving their pelvises much, since their ankles were lashed wide apart to the base of the unit. Their toes barely touched the floor.

Leo approached a naked body with a bucket. With a latex-gloved hand he pulled out a dripping sponge, squeezed it until it stopped dripping, then disappeared out of sight, the view obscured by their wooden restraint itself. She felt the rough, natural sea sponge on her belly, swirl around, up to her chest, her breasts, scratching and tickling at the same time. She smelled the mineral oil as her body warmed the liquid. It had a deliciously spicy scent that matched the delicious sensations. The sponge went up her arms to their wrists. Then from the top of her thighs, down her legs, past her knees and calves, and back up again, up her inner thighs and between her legs. Between her lips. Up and down, over and over. She felt as if electric currents pulsed through her as the rough texture of the sponge rubbed against her most tender skin and brought her clitoris to life.

She looked over to the other girl. They could each only see the other hooded head, but she could tell that the other girl was also getting the sponge treatment. The lights reflected on her oiled feminine curves which were punctuated by twin erect nipples. She thought her partner looked ravishing and hoped that she compared...

After a while she sensed something happening on the stage but the restraining device prevented any view.

SMACK!

A rider's crop spoiled the happy mood of Rose's clit. The clit's legs reflexively tried to close, but it was too late... and impossible.

Saturday had begun.

Emily was in the audience, joined by Tammy and the rest of the girls, except for Virginia, who was busy at home, packing, and Sandy, who had volunteered to help.

Emily was horrified at what she saw that afternoon, and yet every couple of hours a girl would excuse herself from the table, soon a naked hooded female would show up on the stage, and after a while a battered female would hobble off the stage and the new one would get beaten in her place. A half-hour or so later a girl who'd left a couple of hours earlier would return to the table and join the others – sitting in obvious discomfort – cheering the females on stage. This continued all day and it was clear to Emily that the girls were voluntarily taking turns on the stage, taking turns to get abused. None of the girls had been coerced. If they were being exploited, it was obviously voluntary; they must be getting something out of this experience that she didn't understand, and, as Terri said earlier, it wasn't money – nobody would do this just for money. She remembered years earlier when Daphne/Tammy told her about a boxer who doesn't want to get beaten up, but accepts the fact that the beatings are between him and his goal. Perhaps there was more going on here than met the eye. She didn't understand it, but she began to accept it.

Another naked female appeared on the stage. Emily scanned the table. All the other girls were obviously excited. More than usual. Almost breathless.

And Tammy was missing.

The two naked females suspended themselves by their wrists and assistants secured their ankles spread wide apart as two big men appeared, uncoiling their whips. The other girls at the table recognized these men and, for the first time since the night before, all fell absolutely silent, intent upon watching what they knew was about to happen.

For the next half-hour Emily was mesmerized. She had never even imagined such savagery. She was horrified to her core but she couldn't not watch the obviously older of the two women endure literally getting the snot whipped out of her. The other girls silently watched with awestruck reverence. Emily's sense of disgust shifted to the other members of the audience who blithely treated this torture session as if it was inconsequential, or worse, entertaining. She heard two men chatting about the golf game they'd played earlier that day. She couldn't believe it. The men continued chatting, pausing occasionally, as if the women getting flayed before them was an inconvenience to their debating the proper club and technique to pop a ball out of the sand trap on the right side of the 17th hole, and land it close to the pin...

Emily watched Terri release the naked females and help them over to the pad, one by one, as the girls stood behind her, applauded the strength and hardiness of the exhausted pair. She looked at naked forms on the pad, recovering for a short while, awaiting still more abuse that they surely knew was coming. She turned and looked at her girls. They were chatting animatedly, excited. They'd all endured whippings like this – she'd seen the welts – and they were going to come back and prove to themselves and everyone else that they were tough. Tougher than she was, that's for sure.

Emily realized that this was, in a very real sense, a severe hazing into an extremely select sorority.

The two women got up unsteadily and Emily joined in the respectful applause, for the first time truly understanding the essence of why she was applauding. She knew she didn't understand completely, but she knew that exposing her girls would only cause harm.

She resolved not to say anything about this place – or her girls – to anyone.