As Lynn and Sandra walked the two blocks to Lynn's house they chatted in hushed tones, careful not to be overheard.
"Did you do what Ginger asked you to?" asked Sandra.
"Yes," replied Lynn.
"All day?"
"Yes."
"But," Sandra began, a worried tone creeping into her voice. She paused for a moment, then decided that if you can't be frank with your best friend and fellow Elle Elle pledge, when can you?
"Really?" she continued. "No underwear?"
"That's right. What you see is all I have on. And it drove me crazy. I better get it right tonight. I don't think I could take whatever Ginger will dream up next if I don't.
"Did you notice that guy on the bus? Do you think he could tell?" Lynn asked.
"He sure was staring at you," said Sandra, her worried expression softening with just a hint of a gleam in her eye. "How could he tell? I sure can't. Going braless is nothing new. Besides, the way we're endowed, it would only be noticed if we usually wore a padded bra."
They both laughed at that, a favorite joke between them.
"But the way he looked," Lynn persisted, again serious, almost worried, "like he knew, or was in on it. Do you suppose Ginger told him? I'd be so embarrassed!"
Sandra felt a strong twinge of pleasure shoot from her crotch at the suggestion that he might have known. Her cunt ached from the secret thing she wore there, something she had decided not to confide in with Lynn. The thought that he might suspect that both of them were enjoying themselves so much gave her great delight.
"He was just a high school kid. Kind of cute. Say, didn't he have a hard on?"
"I thought so," Lynn replied. "There was a bulge in his pants, but it looked funny. But yes, he was very good looking. Older than high school, I'd say. There was something about him that reminded me of a famous young Japanese singer."
"But it looked odd," said Sandra. "You know, it usually goes down one leg of their pants."
"Maybe his underwear was too tight."
All during their walk Lynn had been self-consciously aware of her body, every part that was touched with what little she had on. The cool knife edged pleats danced lightly over the most sensitive parts of her body, while her breasts and especially her nipples were constantly tormented by the scratchiness of the wool sweater. She loved the feeling of the skirt, maddening as it was, whereas she couldn't wait to take off the sweater.
It had been like that for her all day, subsiding only a little when she sat still in class. But then she had been in constant fear that one of her profs would get a look up her skirt and see the pink flesh of her pussy, shaved as bare as a cue ball. The skin around her cunt still tingled from the shave it had received the night before.
Sandra slackened her pace a bit, falling in behind Lynn as they walked along the grassy roadside. Her gaze fell on Lynn's ass, and she was swept again with feelings of jealousy, sympathy, and lust. It scared her that, for the first time in her life, she was really turned on by another woman, and on top of that it was her best friend.
She had always wanted a body like Lynn's. Slender, delicate, like a high fashion model. And, to add insult to injury, Lynn had beautiful, large, cat-like eyes. Doe eyed, one of her friends had described them as. Men always went ape shit over Lynn.
Sandra and Lynn were pledges in a group called the Elle Elle. It was not actually a sorority, just a locally formed club that operated like one. The name was said to have evolved from an earlier name, Lusty Ladies, and, if that was true, it was a great improvement. Elle Elle was a secret women's society dedicated to the pursuit of sensual pleasure by young women, allowing the members to discover and experiment with all kinds of erotic behavior without the risks and entanglements of a relationship with a member of the opposite sex.
Members were not forced to do anything that they did not want to, although the ritual hazing of the new applicants was demanding. The pledges were told repeatedly that they could object to any treatment, and that a suitable alternative would be arranged. It was intended more to allow the applicant to discover if they really wanted to participate in the club, and if it did not work out they were free to go.
Elle Elle was not a group of lesbians. By and large the members were normal, heterosexual women. The knowledge and skills they learned there were intended to be used in their relationships with men. The members simply had a healthy curiosity about sex, but found themselves living in a society where public demonstrations of such interests were only accepted of males. It was difficult enough for a young female to purchase a vibrating dildo, much less learn how best to use one, or experiment with S&M.
Night before last there had been a meeting of the entire club. The final applicants were tested on detailed information about the club's history and basic male and female sexual anatomy, covering information they had been taught over the last month. The test was oral, and they were judged by the attitude they projected as much as for accuracy.
Three of the eight women failed. Those three were told that they would be given another chance on Friday night, but that they would be required to do penance all day Friday. This was the second time that the applicants were required to do anything physical, the first having been a lineup in leotards the week before, where a senior member had provided excruciatingly explicit critiques of their bodies.
Later in the evening a senior had been assigned to each of the three girls, and each pair met privately to establish what the pledge had to do. Lynn had been assigned to the president, a blonde beauty named Ginger, who had given her the clothes she now wore, with instructions to wear them all day Friday, and to the meeting Friday night. She suggested that Lynn shave her pubic hairs, as they would show through the thin white fabric. Lynn was to meet her at 8:30 the next morning at the student union.
Lynn had told Sandra all about it afterwards.
"I know you told me that this club did strange things, but this is unbelievably weird!" Lynn said, looking a little worried.
"Did she say why you are doing this? I mean, what's the point?" Sandra asked, puzzled by the story.
"No, she didn't elaborate," Lynn said with a sigh. "Doesn't shaving there make it itchy?"
"I think that happens when the hair starts to grow back, but you should use some kind of after shave," Sandra said matter of factly. "I've heard of women shaving there, but I'm not sure why they do. I mean, I always thought their husbands wanted them to look real young."
"Won't I look ridiculous in this skirt? I remember when these were in fashion a few years ago, but only old ladies wear them now!"
"Old ladies wear the kind that look like they are made of cardboard. This one's kind of sexy, don't you think? It's so soft and silky, not much more than a slip."
"Actually, you're right," agreed Lynn. "Maybe that's the point. I wonder were she got it?"
"Let's go. I'll help you study," offered Sandra.
Now, as they walked home, Sandra found herself getting turned on by the thought of Lynn's day-long sensual ordeal.
"What happened this morning with Ginger?" Sandra asked.
"Oh, not much. She lifted my skirt and checked that I wasn't wearing anything underneath, that's all. She was very nice about it."
As she spoke, Lynn felt a glow rippling through her body, as it had so many times that day. She just couldn't bring herself to tell Sandra what had really happened.
As she walked she began to feel more and more from her clit, a warmth that seemed to blossom like a flower struck by the morning sun. She wanted to stop walking, to catch her breath and cool off a bit, but her house was just a bit further and she was afraid that Sandra might get curious.
During the day it had been worse. Ginger had kept her until just before each class, so that she had to walk fast clear across campus to make it in time. Each time she imagined Ginger grinning from ear to ear as she watched Lynn go, knowing very well what she was feeling.
They had met that morning as agreed at the student union. She followed Ginger to a door on the second floor marked 'Machine Room.' There Ginger had produced a key, looked around as if to check that no one saw them, and let them in.
The room was pitch black, but Ginger flipped on the light switch so casually that Lynn guessed that she was familiar with the place. They were in a room about twenty feet square, without windows. The sounds of powerful equipment pounded and throbbed, distant but loud enough so that they would have to speak loudly to hear each other. There was an open doorway in the left side of the far wall, but whatever lay beyond was lost in darkness.
The wall on the right was covered with electrical breaker panels, humming with an urgency that suggested a tremendous power barely constrained within. The wall to the left was mostly bare, except for a double locker.
Along the far wall was a grey steel work table, about three feet deep and running from the doorway almost to the right wall. Its surface was bare and spotlessly clean. Under it were stored a large number of blueprint tubes. A couple of stools and plastic chairs completed the industrial looking decor. The room was air conditioned, and quite chilly.
"I know for a fact that no one comes here during the day," said Ginger. "You can relax, we won't be disturbed."
Lynn swallowed hard. "Why should I be worried about being disturbed?" she wondered silently. "Well, I expected some hazing, and I guess this is it. But what will she do to me?"
"I want you to begin by raising your skirt," Ginger announced, her tone firm and business like. The sound of her voice, like a direct answer to Lynn's thoughts, startled her so it made her jump. Lynn did as she had been instructed without hesitation, but could not hide the look of embarrassment.
"Good! Now pull your sweater up."
Lynn do so, proving that she was completely naked under the clothes Ginger had given her. The cold air made her shiver a little, and she could see goose bumps on her skin. She started to lower the sweater, but Ginger stopped her. She pointed to the steel table and said, "I want you to lay on that table, face down."
Lynn was startled, but proceeded to do as she was told. She stepped up on a chair, then laid face down on the table. In the process her sweater fell down. The table felt terribly cold even through the sweater.
"No, I want he sweater up around your neck, and your boobs on the table!" Ginger ordered.
Lynn followed her instructions, and when her tits touched the icy table she got the shock of her life.
"Ah! Oh, it's freezing, it's too cold! I can't!", Lynn cried out, lifting herself up on her elbows.
"Quiet! Now, I want you to count out loud to one hundred, and between each number, say 'The women of Elle Elle are all my sisters.' If your tits come off the table, or you make any other sound, we'll have to start over."
Lynn dropped back onto the table and began, slowly at first, then faster, hoping that the sooner she finished the sooner she could get off.
By twenty the table began to be bearable as it warmed from her body heat. At fifty she suddenly felt something new. Ginger was stroking the backs of her legs ever so lightly with her fingertips, from her ankles all the up and over her ass to her waist, then back down. It tickled the most on her bare skin, but even through the thin skirt it was hellish torment.
Little shivers ran through her. She clenched her fists and kept counting, intent on getting through this, on showing Ginger she could take it, on proving something to herself.
The tickling mounted, and as she quivered and jerked her breasts moved to a new, icy cold spot. She had to fight hard to hold back a scream, but she had no thought of giving up. She closed her eyes, curled her toes, and kept on reciting.
She began to loose her sense of time, and felt like this was all happening in slow motion. She was fascinated by the conflicting feelings she was experiencing. On the one hand, she wanted to be in the club, wanted to be accepted by Ginger, wanted to learn more about sex. On the other, she hated what Ginger was doing to her. It was humiliating, not to mention hard to tolerate.
As the seconds passed she felt her attitude change. For some strange reason she began to like what Ginger was doing. It felt good, in a strange sort of way. It was not painful, and would leave no marks. Once she realized that it felt sort of nice, she began to think of it as a game, and no longer felt so humiliated. Despite her change in attitude, the cold on her breasts was more than she wanted to endure, and the relentless tickling of her legs and ass was absolute torture. It was all she could do to keep from bursting out in uncontrolled laughter.
When she got to a hundred she collapsed, breathless. Her first thought was to get down off of the table. She rolled off the edge and slid into a chair, almost falling down in the process. Ginger caught her and helped her into the chair, then pulled down her sweater and held her close.
"Now, now, you will be a real sister, I'm sure of it. Study hard, for tonight I want you to be perfect. Meet me here at 10:30, that's an hour and something from now. Hurry, or you'll be late for class!"
Lynn had just five minutes to get to her 9:30 biology lab. As she hurried she noticed how the feeling of what she wore sustained what had been the most thrilling experience of her life. It was not just playful, but downright sexual. She had been too overwhelmed with the intensity of the cold on her breasts, the tickling on her legs, and the need to concentrate on saying her little ditty without crying out to feel sexy. Now the pleats were tickling her ass and thighs almost the way Ginger had. She especially noticed and liked the way the pleated hem caressed the backs of her knees as she walked. As she kept turning over the events of the past hour in her mind she began to feel very turned on. What had started out feeling like a torture session began to seem more and more erotic.
When she got to her lab she was careful to sit with her knees together at first. As the time passed she discovered that when she relaxed and let her knees swing back and forth the edges of the pleats dragging over her bare skin produced a delightful, gentle tickling sensation. She thought of Ginger tickling her legs, and got very horny. She began to wish that she had been laying face up, and that Ginger had tickled her that way. She wondered how it would have felt if Ginger had pushed the skirt down between her legs and run a finger up and down one of the pleats, pushing it into her cunt. Was she ticklish there? She had no idea, but the thought of having her cunt tickled that way really turned her on.
After her lab she hurried back to meet Ginger, again concentrating on the feelings coming from her skirt. After a minute in the warm morning sun her sweater started to itch, and nowhere did it itch more than on her nipples. By the time she got to the student union her nipples felt like they were on fire.
Her next class was at 11:30, and she spent the free hour with Ginger, who took them to a stairwell to the second floor that looked out onto an open area below. They leaned on the wrought iron railing and talked, and whenever no one was near Ginger would drop into a running commentary about the guys walking by below, making all kinds of fantastic and sexy remarks.
The wind blew in gusts, causing Lynn's skirt to flutter in continuous waves against her legs. This, combined with Ginger's naughty commentary, caused her to bask in a constant glow of mild arousal. When the wind blew hard Lynn had to struggle to keep the skirt from blowing up.
Ginger always pointed out the guys who stared at them, noting their varied reactions to seeing two foxy ladies looking down at them. Finally, just when it was time to leave for class, Ginger pointed out that anyone walking under the stairway could look up Lynn's skirt and see that she had nothing on underneath.
Lynn gasped in horror. "Do you really think they could see anything?" she asked.
"Of course. That skirt is thin and white, which lets a lot of light through, so from below you must look almost naked. Didn't you see all those heads turning this way every time the wind blew your skirt up? Imagine their surprise at seeing you shaved there. That's why I brought you here. Now, meet me after lunch in front of the room we were in this morning. Let's make it 2:30."
"Oh, not again!" Lynn whined.
"No, not the table. But be there!"
That hour passed slowly for Lynn, as she kept wondering what would happen after lunch. The class was her world history lecture, dealing ironically with the decadence of the eighteenth century French court prior to the revolution. As she thought about what was happening to her she began to realize just how much fun it was, and felt very sympathetic with those bored aristocrats.
She thought that perhaps Ginger was using her for her own pleasure, but even so she felt that she was learning a lot about some things she had always been curious about, even things she didn't know existed. More over, she knew that there was much, much more to be learned, and she felt safe with Ginger. She had dated many boys in the last few years, but they either treated her like a collector's item, a toy on display for their friends, or just wanted to get inside her pants with little regard for her feelings. It was always such a letdown. What she suddenly craved was to be with a man who made her feel as alive as Ginger had today.
Lynn had a leisurely lunch. She ate with Sandra at the little snack bar next to the library, but Sandra had to rush off to class. This gave Lynn some time to be alone and think about what had happened to her, and what she was getting herself into. It was noisy in the snack bar, so she went to the library to think.
As soon as she walked in she noticed the air conditioning. It amazed her that it should be so noticeable simply because she had no underwear on. She decided to roam the stacks and enjoy some more the feeling of the pleated skit tickling her thighs. After all, in a few more hours she would have to give it back to Ginger. The thought saddened her, and she wondered if she could ever find a skirt like that for herself.
It was Sandra who had told her about Elle Elle, and had arranged for them to try out. The two of them had had a long talk about it one night, trying to decide if they wanted to join.
At first is had been hard to decide, because they knew so little about it. Then they went to the series of meetings Elle Elle used to introduce interested women to the club. The meetings were more like parties, but without boys. Each one went a little further explaining what the club was about, so that only those who were genuinely interested would stay to get the real inside story.
In the end Lynn knew that the club offered lots of opportunities to learn about every aspect of sexuality, from the basics to the most bizarre. And it was made clear that active participation, while not mandatory, was encouraged, and that most members did experiment actively, sometimes in small private sessions, sometimes in larger groups.
The point the older members kept making was that she would not have to join in, but that she had to be comfortable with the fact that others did, and to preserve and respect their privacy. Lynn was not sure how she felt about that part of it. Sandra couldn't wait to get in.
One exception to this basic rule was pledge hazing. Hazing was an established tradition in sororities and fraternities. Sometimes it got a little out of hand, a fact that worried many universities.
One of the older members had given a brief but explicit talk about a session her older sister had gone through. The pledges had been made to get down on all fours, completely naked, and were spanked with heavy paddles until they screamed. They ended up with blisters all over their asses, but one girl suffered permanent damage to her ovaries and would not be able to bear children as a result.
Elle Elle did not believe in this type of treatment. Instead, the hazing was designed to confront each applicant with her own sexuality, to give a chance to experience something of what the club was about. Like the introductory meetings, it advanced in stages, and each girl was free to go if she reached a point where she was unwilling to continue. Each year there were a few who opted out along the way.
Lynn now wondered if she had reached that point. Privately, she was very curious about sex and wanted to learn as much as she could. She had thought for several years that the fantasies that really turned her on were odd, that perhaps she had a problem with sex. Just going to the few meetings she had up until now had given her a fresh outlook. She was ecstatic that here was a group of women who shared many of her thoughts and feelings, and were very open and understanding about the desires and little quirks that were important to others, even if they did not share them.
Yet there was a risk here. How much would she have to expose of herself? Not physically, despite what had happened that morning. She wanted to play in this game, not just sit it out on the sidelines. But to jump in meant that she would have to expose some of her most private thoughts. What would they think of her then? Despite their assurances, they might ridicule her, or dismiss her as trite. These were very together, sophisticated, well educated women.
Just observing them at the meetings had left her confused. They all dressed so well, and knew all about fancy food and wines. They seemed so relaxed and worldly. She wanted to be like them, but was terribly afraid that she could never be.
At the third meeting, the one at which a lot more of the real activities of the group were presented, every one of them had on a fancy qiana evening gown. They all looked like they were going to a prom that night. No, actually they were sexier than that. Sexy, very sexy, but nothing like a hooker. They had too much class to look like that. More like a movie star out on the town. Lynn ached to be able to dress like that, to look so good, yet if one of them had handed her a dress and offered to do her hair, she wondered if she would have had the nerve to go through with it.
At two twenty, having reached no conclusions in the library, she went dutifully to their meeting place. Ginger was not outside. She checked the door and, finding it unlocked, went in. Ginger was not inside either, so she sat down and waited. For some reason, the more she waited, the hornier she got. She let her mind wander and drifted into a strange sexual fantasy which took place in the art gallery.
She saw herself standing, her arms held straight up over her head by ropes hanging down from the ceiling and tied to her wrists. Her ankles were tied to a bamboo pole that kept her legs spread wide apart. She wore a long, sheer, black nylon nightgown, loose and flowing, crystal pleated like the skirt she had on. She was inside a cage with steel bars about six inches apart, and was on display as a sculpture.
The viewers were all men, mostly students, and all of them were attractive. They were trying to reach through the bars and touch her, and no one was there to stop them. Some of them could just reach her. They ran their fingers lightly over her breasts, which tickled her terribly.
She cried out, laughing, begging them to stop, but they acted as if this was all part of the sculpture. She tried to pull away, but the ropes prevented that. As she moved she felt the pleated gown caressing her body, and this too tickled her, from her nipples to her ankles and everywhere in between. It was like what she felt walking in Ginger's skirt, or when she sat and swung her knees apart and together, only much, much stronger. She realized that the fabric of the nightgown was something special, which made the tickling caresses of the men much stronger than normal, as well as tickling her on its own.
This went on for a very long time, and she was going mad from the tickling torture, screaming with laughter as more and more hands found their way to her body, caressing her breasts, her ribs, her stomach, her ass, her thighs. Everywhere they touched it tickled more than she had ever felt, even from the soles of her very ticklish feet Yet, at the same time, she got so horny that she wished with all her heart that one of those hunks would open the door to the cage and fuck the daylights out of her. She wanted to come, so bad, and it tickled so much!
Finally a really big guy, with the tousled blond hair of a surfer, managed to reach out and brush the nightgown across her cunt. She went absolutely wild from the tickling that produced! It made all of the other tickling seem like nothing. And it felt so good! She arched her back, desperately trying to get her cunt closer to his outstretched hand. At her best, all he could do is touch her lightly, ever so lightly, and flick two or three pleats back and forth over the swollen lips beneath. He kept at it, and she could feel a huge, mega-orgasm rising inside her. It was so big it was frighting. She wondered if it would kill her. Would she explode into a billion little bits of flesh? It was getting closer, oh it felt so good!
At that moment the door swung open and Ginger walked in.
Sweet Agony
End of chapter 3