It was about nine in the evening and once again I was sitting in front of a flickering computer screen trying to wrap my head around programming in Ada. More specifically I was trying to work out why the university were making second year computer science students study a language that had precisely no new projects outside of the defence industry and was about twenty years out of date.
My almost trance-like concentration was broken by a knock at the door and, grateful for the distraction I got up to open it to reveal the rather bleary-eyed form of one of my housemates. The house itself was an old Victorian style townhouse about halfway between the town centre and the university and was absolutely huge compared to most of the student housing that was available. Split into four main floors it was home to seven of us, three of whom where doing the same computer science course, the rest were maths students who’d met the three of us in a bar a few weeks into the first year and who seemed to actually enjoy our company.
This was surprising to us for a couple of reasons. First, the fact that anyone would choose to hang around three geeks was pretty unusual, but the fact that all four were female and extremely pretty had us firmly believing that it was a practical joke of some sort. Thankfully they’d convinced us otherwise and over the year we’d become fast friends to the point that we’d all decided to live together in the second year to try and not only cut down on costs but to get somewhere a little bigger than we’d otherwise be able to afford. We’d even gone to the spring ball together, with the girls each choosing who’d they like to go with. Again for reasons that totally escape me two of them had each said they wanted to go with me, and as we were short one guy anyway it didn’t seem like a bad solution to the problem at least not from my point of view.
That particular evening had stayed with me though, and I found myself trying to work out why they’d both decided on me as I knew that if you compared the three of us I was definitely sitting in third place. I’ve always had a big build, natural born rugby player as one of my friends used to joke, but it was only recently that I’d really started to loose the last of the puppy fat, so for the first year and a bit of university I was sitting firmly in the chubby camp. I’m not particularly tall either at five ten, and most of my muscle is in my legs, so I tend to look shorter than I am.
It was really bugging me though, and I was starting to talk myself into believing it was a sympathy thing, which frankly I neither needed nor wanted. After a couple of weeks I plucked up the courage to actually ask them why and they both gave the same answer: “You make us laugh”.
That floored me; I’d always assumed that the whole ‘must have good sense of humour’ line was a way for women to dodge seeming shallow by putting the physical assets higher up the list, but apparently not. It took a while for them to convince me, but they managed it and ever since my confidence has been through the roof.
One thing that does surprise people, well, those that ask anyway, is that none of this had ever lead to anything beyond friendship between any of us. Sure we flirted a lot, and the girls tended to play around with us (and on one very memorable occasion, each other, but that’s another story) when we went out to the pub, but it was never anything more than that. In fact, and this is hard to admit, I’d never even kissed a woman, let alone done anything else. It sounds corny, hell it sounds incredibly stupid, but I’ve always had this thing about actually wanting any, umm, physical activity to be second to a strong relationship, and that kind of puts the brakes on any ‘serious’ fooling around. The other guys weren’t in the same situation and I’d occasionally cop a little flack from them about it, but it honestly didn’t bother me that much. All good thing to those who wait and all that jazz.
Anyway, the figure standing outside my door was definitely not one of the girls, not unless that was a hell of a good disguise kit they’d gotten for Christmas. It was in fact the body of Tim, my next-door neighbour and best mate. By the looks of him he’d been up for far too long working on this damn assignment and had reached the point of either going out and getting blind drunk on cheap vodka night down the Bay Hotel, or having a long scream, going up to the uni and taking a baseball bat to all their computers. On this occasion he seemed to have settled for the vodka option, and was asking me if I wanted to go with.
A quick think convinced me that this might not be the best plan. For a start, he had managed to finish his project, which was due in at the end of the week (today being Tuesday) and I had barely started and needed to catch up. More importantly though I knew exactly what would happen if I went out with him and ‘the lads’ when they were in this state. I am a slow drunk, I don’t mean I drink slow, rather that it takes a very large amount of alcohol to have any real impact on my system thanks to a slow metabolism. The net result was usually that they’d all be drunk enough to start something stupid, a fight with the entire university rugby team for example, and I’d have to wade in and try to sort it out. Frankly I didn’t need the excitement and declined as gracefully as I could, using the work thing as an excuse, which he reluctantly accepted and both Tim and Tony (the third member of our merry band) headed out for the evening.
I returned to the computer and after about fifteen minutes had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do but no longer had the brainpower left to figure out exactly how to make it happen. But that didn’t really matter; with the plan in place I’d broken the back of the damn thing, and could come back to it in the morning to finish off. I saved the project and shut down the PC, walked over to the bookshelf and pulled down my latest Terry Pratchett novel.
My room was big, cavernous by student standards and it had given me a little freedom in how I had it set-up. One wall was dominated by the desk, bookshelf and wardrobe, curving round to meet the fireplace. The opposite wall held a couple of smaller units and the bulk of my TV and audio equipment with the bed off to the side. In the middle of the floor was a sofa bed, which was positioned to face the TV and block off the work-orientated side of the room, effectively, giving me a study area and living area in the one room. I settled down on the sofa with my book and curled up; letting my mind clear itself of the computer code I’d been immersed in for what seemed like days.
Over the course of the next hour or so I got through close to a hundred pages of the book, distracted slightly by the large number of people calling on the house. I counted at least five people coming in through the front door and heading upstairs to the top floor. The girls must be having a night in I thought and made a mental note to make sure I was presentable if I headed out to the kitchen or bathroom. The computer and central heating had combined with the lack of proper ventilation to turn the room into a sweatbox though, and I propped the door open to try and get some air in. It was working, but slowly and I pulled off my, by now in desperate need of a wash, t-shirt and threw a clean one over the back of the sofa, intending to cool down a bit before finishing dressing. I settled back down and once again started to loose myself in my book.
Suddenly from upstairs I heard a shriek and hit the ground running. There were four long flights of stairs and a couple of doors to negotiate to reach the top floor, but even so I think I made it up there in about twenty seconds flat. All the doors in this place were the same, thick fire doors with cheap bolt locks that would give if hit just right. I didn’t even slow down, just lowered my shoulder slightly and popped the door open, wincing slightly as I felt the wood resist for long enough to guarantee a nasty bruise and some lingering pain for the next few days. The sight that met my eyes was a curious one: ten women (I must have missed one coming in) were all crowded around the bed with one of them looking distinctly twitchy. The one in question was Fiona, one of ‘our’ lot and by far the most attractive. The others were good looking but she was a knockout. Five three, blond hair that flowed down her back almost to her waist, perfect body and eyes that were capable of just sucking you in and down until you were completely lost if you weren’t careful. She had been one of the two that I had escorted to the ball, and the memory of her clinging to me, her simple black dress flowing over her body like liquid silk, her scent rising to meet me was as strong today as it had been then.
I checked everyone was okay, and had a quick scan of the room. I recognised everyone there, and that more than anything reassured me that nothing too bad was going to happen tonight. I really should have known better, but I guess I was still a little spaced from overwork. In fact I’m sure of it, as I normally hide that sort of thing pretty well, but Fiona had picked up on it immediately and was staring at me with an intensity that was both unnerving and thrilling, the two feelings arriving mixed up together and causing a shiver to pass through me as I struggled to sort them out.
I knew that if I stayed any longer the situation would start to get uncomfortable, especially as it was sinking in that I was still sans t-shirt and the looks I was getting from some of the women were definitely more than simple amusement, with one or two almost looking, as daft as it sounds, hungry. I headed back down, entered my now cool room and quickly pulled the new shirt on and flopped back on to the sofa. Normally my mind would have been going over what I’d just seen and would probably have picked up on a few subtle, but vital, clues. However if I had I suspect that what happened next would have stayed a ‘what if?’ for evermore.
There was a knock at the door and like a fool I opened it. Immediately I was forced to back up as all ten of the girls started to file into the room, though strangely it wasn’t Fiona in the lead as I’d have expected, but Bonnie, a tall brunette who normally one of the sweetest people you could ever hope to meet. Now though there was an odd look on her face that immediately put me on my guard and I turned slightly so I was standing between the bed and the sofa, not wanting to box myself into a corner.
Behind Bonnie the girls spread out in a line, all of them watching me intently, reading my movements as I passed my gaze around the room. I was well aware that I could be in real trouble here, but ultimately I knew these people, and there wasn’t one among them I didn’t think of as a friend. They were all dressed in black, a simple combination of trousers and t-shirt that were so tight at first glance you’d have been forgiven for assuming they were wearing catsuits. Bonnie cleared her throat, purely for the theatrical element I thought, and started to speak as if quoting from a script.
“We, the sisters of the feather, do herby give notice that what happens from this point onwards are actions demanded of us by our laws, and are in no way representative of our personal feelings on this matter. Sister Fiona, do you understand why your initiation has been….modified in this manner?”
I glanced back and for the first time realised that Fiona was being flanked on either side by the largest and, I assumed, the strongest of all of the women. “I do” she replied, voice catching slightly as she caught my questioning glance.
“Then I should explain the situation to your white night before we begin” Bonnie continued, right before they rushed me.
I’d seen it coming, the shift in stance as soon as Fiona had said “I do” had been the tip off and I moved quickly, up on to the sofa and over the back, trying to get round them and out the door. It almost worked too, but someone managed to knock my ankle as I cleared the back of the sofa and I headed for the ground at speed. Landing on my already bruised shoulder I rolled through, now only a foot or two from the door as I heard a strange yet somehow familiar clunk from behind me. The only problem was Fiona was standing in front of it and there was no way I was simply going to shove her aside, not even to get out of here. I pivoted and headed up onto the bed, planning to head for the large patio doors in the opposite corner. Suddenly I felt someone tackle me from behind and I went down, landing face down on the mattress. I squirmed forward, knowing that if they managed to get enough bodies on me I was done for.
I made it off the bed, and with a chance to get my feet under me launched off the floor towards the sofa, planning to pivot off the back of the sofa and swing round back towards the patio doors. As I reached out for the hard frame I suddenly realised that the earlier clunk had been someone letting down the backrest to turn the sofa into a bed and I landed sprawling on the now double bed sized cushions.
This time I had no chance, the landing had knocked the wind out of me, and the girls piled on top of me, spreading out so that while some of them held me down the others moved to my arms and legs, pulling them taught and crossing both my wrists and ankles. There were muffled clinking noises, as I thrashed underneath the weight of their bodies, I felt something soft click shut around my right wrist, then my left and then my ankles, left and right. The weight lessened as they all shifted off to my right, and then with one swift movement they rolled me over onto my back. As they did so my arms were pulled outwards towards the corners of the bed, as were my legs, by the restraints and I realised that they had put the left cuffs on the right limb and vice versa, so that when they flipped me over my right hand was suddenly yanked upwards rather than pulling my arms closer together.
I felt hands yanking at my clothes and suddenly my shirt was torn away from my body, followed shortly afterwards by my trousers, leaving me tied up and helpless clad only in black briefs in front of ten women, all of whom I respected and all of whom turned me on, a fact that was becoming painfully clear to the casual observer at this point.
I watched as the girls spread out around the bed, two saying behind my head, one either side of my body, one by each thigh and one by each of my feet. Fiona I realised wasn’t joining them and I twisted my head around to spot her sitting on the edge of the other bed, hands tied together in front of her with a rope tied around her ankles that was fastened to the foot of the bed. Looking back I suspect it was more of a symbolic bondage than anything else, as she could have gotten her hands close enough to that knot to free her feet and get out if she’d wanted to. A sudden weight on the bed brought my attention back to my own predicament as Bonnie knelt down between my legs, lent forwards and ran her nails over my bare skin.
In a moment of clarity I realised exactly what they were planning as my mind finally caught up with events and I tried to force myself not to react to Bonnie’s touch. I managed not to laugh, but the tensing of my muscles under her hands, the twitching of my jaw as I fought to hang on to my self control was all the confirmation she needed. She rocked forward, lying down on top of me, her mouth barely an inch from my ear as she flipped her hair down like a curtain around my head.
“Relax,” she whispered, “we’ll explain everything later and we won’t do anything to cause you harm. Well, not permanently anyway.” I could her the grin in her voice as she said the last part. “Let’s just say we’re going to prove that no good dead goes unpunished and the road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions. Just try to enjoy it.” With that she gently bit my ear, and pushed herself upwards, from my enforced perspective she looked like a mythical creature rising above me, preparing to deliver judgement. Any hopes that I’d guessed wrongly about their intentions dissolved with her next words.
“For daring to interrupt our ceremony it is our custom that the white knight shall be sentenced to one hour of torment at the hands of our sisterhood. However, as this particular knight has performed above and beyond the call of duty for each of us here tonight at some point in the last year, we will reduce this sentence by half, if all the sisters agree.” There were nods from all the women at this, although I thought I saw a brief look of disappointment on more than one face. “Then it is decided,” Bonnie continued “thirty minutes of tickling, punishment to commence immediately.”
*** Continued ***
My almost trance-like concentration was broken by a knock at the door and, grateful for the distraction I got up to open it to reveal the rather bleary-eyed form of one of my housemates. The house itself was an old Victorian style townhouse about halfway between the town centre and the university and was absolutely huge compared to most of the student housing that was available. Split into four main floors it was home to seven of us, three of whom where doing the same computer science course, the rest were maths students who’d met the three of us in a bar a few weeks into the first year and who seemed to actually enjoy our company.
This was surprising to us for a couple of reasons. First, the fact that anyone would choose to hang around three geeks was pretty unusual, but the fact that all four were female and extremely pretty had us firmly believing that it was a practical joke of some sort. Thankfully they’d convinced us otherwise and over the year we’d become fast friends to the point that we’d all decided to live together in the second year to try and not only cut down on costs but to get somewhere a little bigger than we’d otherwise be able to afford. We’d even gone to the spring ball together, with the girls each choosing who’d they like to go with. Again for reasons that totally escape me two of them had each said they wanted to go with me, and as we were short one guy anyway it didn’t seem like a bad solution to the problem at least not from my point of view.
That particular evening had stayed with me though, and I found myself trying to work out why they’d both decided on me as I knew that if you compared the three of us I was definitely sitting in third place. I’ve always had a big build, natural born rugby player as one of my friends used to joke, but it was only recently that I’d really started to loose the last of the puppy fat, so for the first year and a bit of university I was sitting firmly in the chubby camp. I’m not particularly tall either at five ten, and most of my muscle is in my legs, so I tend to look shorter than I am.
It was really bugging me though, and I was starting to talk myself into believing it was a sympathy thing, which frankly I neither needed nor wanted. After a couple of weeks I plucked up the courage to actually ask them why and they both gave the same answer: “You make us laugh”.
That floored me; I’d always assumed that the whole ‘must have good sense of humour’ line was a way for women to dodge seeming shallow by putting the physical assets higher up the list, but apparently not. It took a while for them to convince me, but they managed it and ever since my confidence has been through the roof.
One thing that does surprise people, well, those that ask anyway, is that none of this had ever lead to anything beyond friendship between any of us. Sure we flirted a lot, and the girls tended to play around with us (and on one very memorable occasion, each other, but that’s another story) when we went out to the pub, but it was never anything more than that. In fact, and this is hard to admit, I’d never even kissed a woman, let alone done anything else. It sounds corny, hell it sounds incredibly stupid, but I’ve always had this thing about actually wanting any, umm, physical activity to be second to a strong relationship, and that kind of puts the brakes on any ‘serious’ fooling around. The other guys weren’t in the same situation and I’d occasionally cop a little flack from them about it, but it honestly didn’t bother me that much. All good thing to those who wait and all that jazz.
Anyway, the figure standing outside my door was definitely not one of the girls, not unless that was a hell of a good disguise kit they’d gotten for Christmas. It was in fact the body of Tim, my next-door neighbour and best mate. By the looks of him he’d been up for far too long working on this damn assignment and had reached the point of either going out and getting blind drunk on cheap vodka night down the Bay Hotel, or having a long scream, going up to the uni and taking a baseball bat to all their computers. On this occasion he seemed to have settled for the vodka option, and was asking me if I wanted to go with.
A quick think convinced me that this might not be the best plan. For a start, he had managed to finish his project, which was due in at the end of the week (today being Tuesday) and I had barely started and needed to catch up. More importantly though I knew exactly what would happen if I went out with him and ‘the lads’ when they were in this state. I am a slow drunk, I don’t mean I drink slow, rather that it takes a very large amount of alcohol to have any real impact on my system thanks to a slow metabolism. The net result was usually that they’d all be drunk enough to start something stupid, a fight with the entire university rugby team for example, and I’d have to wade in and try to sort it out. Frankly I didn’t need the excitement and declined as gracefully as I could, using the work thing as an excuse, which he reluctantly accepted and both Tim and Tony (the third member of our merry band) headed out for the evening.
I returned to the computer and after about fifteen minutes had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do but no longer had the brainpower left to figure out exactly how to make it happen. But that didn’t really matter; with the plan in place I’d broken the back of the damn thing, and could come back to it in the morning to finish off. I saved the project and shut down the PC, walked over to the bookshelf and pulled down my latest Terry Pratchett novel.
My room was big, cavernous by student standards and it had given me a little freedom in how I had it set-up. One wall was dominated by the desk, bookshelf and wardrobe, curving round to meet the fireplace. The opposite wall held a couple of smaller units and the bulk of my TV and audio equipment with the bed off to the side. In the middle of the floor was a sofa bed, which was positioned to face the TV and block off the work-orientated side of the room, effectively, giving me a study area and living area in the one room. I settled down on the sofa with my book and curled up; letting my mind clear itself of the computer code I’d been immersed in for what seemed like days.
Over the course of the next hour or so I got through close to a hundred pages of the book, distracted slightly by the large number of people calling on the house. I counted at least five people coming in through the front door and heading upstairs to the top floor. The girls must be having a night in I thought and made a mental note to make sure I was presentable if I headed out to the kitchen or bathroom. The computer and central heating had combined with the lack of proper ventilation to turn the room into a sweatbox though, and I propped the door open to try and get some air in. It was working, but slowly and I pulled off my, by now in desperate need of a wash, t-shirt and threw a clean one over the back of the sofa, intending to cool down a bit before finishing dressing. I settled back down and once again started to loose myself in my book.
Suddenly from upstairs I heard a shriek and hit the ground running. There were four long flights of stairs and a couple of doors to negotiate to reach the top floor, but even so I think I made it up there in about twenty seconds flat. All the doors in this place were the same, thick fire doors with cheap bolt locks that would give if hit just right. I didn’t even slow down, just lowered my shoulder slightly and popped the door open, wincing slightly as I felt the wood resist for long enough to guarantee a nasty bruise and some lingering pain for the next few days. The sight that met my eyes was a curious one: ten women (I must have missed one coming in) were all crowded around the bed with one of them looking distinctly twitchy. The one in question was Fiona, one of ‘our’ lot and by far the most attractive. The others were good looking but she was a knockout. Five three, blond hair that flowed down her back almost to her waist, perfect body and eyes that were capable of just sucking you in and down until you were completely lost if you weren’t careful. She had been one of the two that I had escorted to the ball, and the memory of her clinging to me, her simple black dress flowing over her body like liquid silk, her scent rising to meet me was as strong today as it had been then.
I checked everyone was okay, and had a quick scan of the room. I recognised everyone there, and that more than anything reassured me that nothing too bad was going to happen tonight. I really should have known better, but I guess I was still a little spaced from overwork. In fact I’m sure of it, as I normally hide that sort of thing pretty well, but Fiona had picked up on it immediately and was staring at me with an intensity that was both unnerving and thrilling, the two feelings arriving mixed up together and causing a shiver to pass through me as I struggled to sort them out.
I knew that if I stayed any longer the situation would start to get uncomfortable, especially as it was sinking in that I was still sans t-shirt and the looks I was getting from some of the women were definitely more than simple amusement, with one or two almost looking, as daft as it sounds, hungry. I headed back down, entered my now cool room and quickly pulled the new shirt on and flopped back on to the sofa. Normally my mind would have been going over what I’d just seen and would probably have picked up on a few subtle, but vital, clues. However if I had I suspect that what happened next would have stayed a ‘what if?’ for evermore.
There was a knock at the door and like a fool I opened it. Immediately I was forced to back up as all ten of the girls started to file into the room, though strangely it wasn’t Fiona in the lead as I’d have expected, but Bonnie, a tall brunette who normally one of the sweetest people you could ever hope to meet. Now though there was an odd look on her face that immediately put me on my guard and I turned slightly so I was standing between the bed and the sofa, not wanting to box myself into a corner.
Behind Bonnie the girls spread out in a line, all of them watching me intently, reading my movements as I passed my gaze around the room. I was well aware that I could be in real trouble here, but ultimately I knew these people, and there wasn’t one among them I didn’t think of as a friend. They were all dressed in black, a simple combination of trousers and t-shirt that were so tight at first glance you’d have been forgiven for assuming they were wearing catsuits. Bonnie cleared her throat, purely for the theatrical element I thought, and started to speak as if quoting from a script.
“We, the sisters of the feather, do herby give notice that what happens from this point onwards are actions demanded of us by our laws, and are in no way representative of our personal feelings on this matter. Sister Fiona, do you understand why your initiation has been….modified in this manner?”
I glanced back and for the first time realised that Fiona was being flanked on either side by the largest and, I assumed, the strongest of all of the women. “I do” she replied, voice catching slightly as she caught my questioning glance.
“Then I should explain the situation to your white night before we begin” Bonnie continued, right before they rushed me.
I’d seen it coming, the shift in stance as soon as Fiona had said “I do” had been the tip off and I moved quickly, up on to the sofa and over the back, trying to get round them and out the door. It almost worked too, but someone managed to knock my ankle as I cleared the back of the sofa and I headed for the ground at speed. Landing on my already bruised shoulder I rolled through, now only a foot or two from the door as I heard a strange yet somehow familiar clunk from behind me. The only problem was Fiona was standing in front of it and there was no way I was simply going to shove her aside, not even to get out of here. I pivoted and headed up onto the bed, planning to head for the large patio doors in the opposite corner. Suddenly I felt someone tackle me from behind and I went down, landing face down on the mattress. I squirmed forward, knowing that if they managed to get enough bodies on me I was done for.
I made it off the bed, and with a chance to get my feet under me launched off the floor towards the sofa, planning to pivot off the back of the sofa and swing round back towards the patio doors. As I reached out for the hard frame I suddenly realised that the earlier clunk had been someone letting down the backrest to turn the sofa into a bed and I landed sprawling on the now double bed sized cushions.
This time I had no chance, the landing had knocked the wind out of me, and the girls piled on top of me, spreading out so that while some of them held me down the others moved to my arms and legs, pulling them taught and crossing both my wrists and ankles. There were muffled clinking noises, as I thrashed underneath the weight of their bodies, I felt something soft click shut around my right wrist, then my left and then my ankles, left and right. The weight lessened as they all shifted off to my right, and then with one swift movement they rolled me over onto my back. As they did so my arms were pulled outwards towards the corners of the bed, as were my legs, by the restraints and I realised that they had put the left cuffs on the right limb and vice versa, so that when they flipped me over my right hand was suddenly yanked upwards rather than pulling my arms closer together.
I felt hands yanking at my clothes and suddenly my shirt was torn away from my body, followed shortly afterwards by my trousers, leaving me tied up and helpless clad only in black briefs in front of ten women, all of whom I respected and all of whom turned me on, a fact that was becoming painfully clear to the casual observer at this point.
I watched as the girls spread out around the bed, two saying behind my head, one either side of my body, one by each thigh and one by each of my feet. Fiona I realised wasn’t joining them and I twisted my head around to spot her sitting on the edge of the other bed, hands tied together in front of her with a rope tied around her ankles that was fastened to the foot of the bed. Looking back I suspect it was more of a symbolic bondage than anything else, as she could have gotten her hands close enough to that knot to free her feet and get out if she’d wanted to. A sudden weight on the bed brought my attention back to my own predicament as Bonnie knelt down between my legs, lent forwards and ran her nails over my bare skin.
In a moment of clarity I realised exactly what they were planning as my mind finally caught up with events and I tried to force myself not to react to Bonnie’s touch. I managed not to laugh, but the tensing of my muscles under her hands, the twitching of my jaw as I fought to hang on to my self control was all the confirmation she needed. She rocked forward, lying down on top of me, her mouth barely an inch from my ear as she flipped her hair down like a curtain around my head.
“Relax,” she whispered, “we’ll explain everything later and we won’t do anything to cause you harm. Well, not permanently anyway.” I could her the grin in her voice as she said the last part. “Let’s just say we’re going to prove that no good dead goes unpunished and the road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions. Just try to enjoy it.” With that she gently bit my ear, and pushed herself upwards, from my enforced perspective she looked like a mythical creature rising above me, preparing to deliver judgement. Any hopes that I’d guessed wrongly about their intentions dissolved with her next words.
“For daring to interrupt our ceremony it is our custom that the white knight shall be sentenced to one hour of torment at the hands of our sisterhood. However, as this particular knight has performed above and beyond the call of duty for each of us here tonight at some point in the last year, we will reduce this sentence by half, if all the sisters agree.” There were nods from all the women at this, although I thought I saw a brief look of disappointment on more than one face. “Then it is decided,” Bonnie continued “thirty minutes of tickling, punishment to commence immediately.”
*** Continued ***
