Erica Versus The House

"Sisters, yes," nodded Erica. "I'll guard it with my life."

"'Atta girl," said Sandy. "Here we go!"

What Erica didn't know was, they'd lined the path down which they'd be leading her with large-seal bubble wrap, under which was sprinkled a semi-dense layer of aluminum screw tacks. They were clearly not done abusing her for their own amusement.

"All right, step lively, pledge-breath," grinned Babs. "Miss Cortlin is waiting."

Erica began to shimmy inside, shuffling her cuffed feet back and forth, scooting forward at the rate she could, hearing giggling already. She didn't know why her hands and feet were restrained, but she figured there had to be some sort of twisted reason.

She was right.

Her toes waggled over the bubble wrap. "What's that?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," said Sandy. "Just keep moving."

She made it a few inches down okay. Then her total weight began to pressure the bubbles too much.

POP!

Erica jumped. "OUCH!!" she cried. Her feet crushed the bubbles and stepped on the tacks. The sisters laughed and cheered.

"OH my GOD, what in hell i—"

Sandy spanked her ass. "HEY—language!" she chastised. "Bad girl!"

Suddenly, she realized why Babs and Sandy had warned her about this. She held onto the cake extra tight.

The remainder of the march down the line was predictable.

POP! "OW!" POW! "OOCH!" SNAP! "AAAH!" CRACK! "OUCH!" POP! "OW!"

Her feet felt shredded, but she somehow made it the whole way down.

"Say hello to Miss Cortlin, Smith," a voice commanded.

Erica's heart slammed to the forefront of her chest. She curtsied to the best of her ability and quickly put her words in order. "It is an honor, a privilege and a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cortlin, and to present you with this lovely cake. Happy Birthday."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Smith," she heard an older female voice say. "You may place the cake on the far end table, please."

She looked back and forth in the direction of Barb and Sandy. She seemed to remember them telling her something about meeting Miss Cortlin and then being given the "final test"...was this it? Putting a cake on a table?

"Uh, where...?"

She was turned 90° to the left, in the correct direction. "Straight ahead, Smith. Just go forward."

They were no longer guiding her. Unaware of what other hazardous traps may lay in her footpath along the way, Erica went on shimmying her feet along the floor extra cautiously and carefully. She felt nothing but carpet.

Danielle, who sat in a chair she walked by on this second leg of her right angle, smiled at the sisters and put her finger to her lips. The hat and cane they'd given the pledges to dance for them the other day were beside her chair. She quietly took up the cane, held it by its long end, waited for Erica to cross until she got just past her, slipped the cane out in front of her...linked its hook around Erica's right ankle...waited for the half-second just before she noticed...

...And yanked. Hard. Enough.

Just as schemed, Erica did not notice the cane go around her ankle, but she did certainly notice her feet jerked out from under her from behind. She lost her center of balance and reflexively began to bobble the cake.

"WhoOAHHH!" she yelled, upended. She tried to stop moving and maintain her footing, but she had already been thrown off her equilibrium. She tumbled in what felt like slow-motion to the floor, just as when Barb had tripped her up Monday morning.

More whoops and cheers ensued. Erica heard several voices overlapping at once.

"Whoopsie!" called one.

"Down we go-o-o!" laughed another.

"TIM-ber!" shouted another.

Finally, from right behind her came the most recognizable voice, with her most recognizable haunting verbal refrain.

"And the house, wins, again!"

Erica did her best to just cushion her blow. Luckily, her arms underneath her broke her breasts' fall, protecting their fragility.

Unluckily, she went down...nose first.

And the cake box lid...was open.

Splat! Erica was met on the floor with a faceful of chocolate marble cake, courtesy of gravity and centrifugal force. She raised her head and spit a few stray crumbs of chocolate marble from her mouth.

What in hell...what happened?! She didn't know how she lost her balance and crashed to the floor like this when she'd been so careful. But based on the sisters' reaction, she quickly detected that one of them had deliberately, diabolically tripped her.

Again.

And now she had ruined the cake.

The vitally...important...cake.

Oh, no! Oh, God! Oh, fuck me! Oh, you bitches!!

Erica's first instinct was to get back up and apologize profusely to Miss Cortlin for letting this happen to her precious cake.

But...all of a sudden...she didn't have the energy anymore. Or the drive. Or the determination.

The devastating reality at last sank in, that...no matter what...

...They're just not gonna ever let me win, are they??...

They were never planning to allow her to complete her pledging and join. This was their viciously cruel scheme all along! It didn't matter what she did, how hard she tried; ultimately, it wouldn't do any good. Suddenly, she totally understood why her friends called it quits. They weren't weaker than she; they were smarter! They'd figured all this out first! Why didn't she listen??

She didn't have the inclination to so much as care anymore. She shoved the cake out of the way, now with a face-shaped dent in it, dropped her head back down to the floor between her lifeless arms, admitted wordless defeat, and sobbed like an infant.

She needed not listen to be able to tell that the sisters were continuing to mock, scorn and deride her—eventually, when she saw the sun go up enough consecutive days, she trusted it as the status quo. She only cried louder to try and drown them out. She didn't care what they said or did anymore. She didn't care if they refused to give her back her personal belongings. She didn't care about anything in relation to these evil women anymore. She just wanted to be let out. She just wanted to go home.

But she'd not be permitted to go anywhere just yet. She heard at least one person approach her body, and roll her over onto her back, then felt herself being dragged backwards along the floor. Most of her face below the blindfold was covered—particularly the nose—in chocolate marble cake. She did nothing to protest.

What are y'all gonna do now, beat me up? Fine. Whatever. I don't give a flying fuck anymore.

They were not going to beat her up. She didn't know how this could get any worse, but she was about to find out.

"Aw, she's crying," someone remarked.

"Poor baby," another cooed in feigned sympathy.

"Hmm, I think I know how to cheer her up," someone else said.

"Oh?"

She was not even trying to discern whose voice was whose anymore.

"OH, yeah. I've got a way to put a smile on that face!"

Erica didn't want to think about what that could have meant, let alone know. But she was going to. Unbeknownst to her attention, Sandra was waving an electric toothbrush to show them. What was more, she had spares for all of them.

"OOOOOhhhh!" giggled Babs in excitement. "I want one! I want one!"

"Me too!" said Danielle.

"And you'd better have one for me!" beamed Helen.

Erica abruptly had a pounding headache. The next thing she knew, a minute later, someone sat down on her hands above her head. Someone else perched on her legs, immobilizing her feet. The remaining girls plopped down at either side of her.

"Ready, bright eyes?" Sandy leered down at her in a voice dripping with ominous malice.

No, she wasn't, and didn't have the energy to ask ready for what either, but it didn't matter anyway. They turned on the electric toothbrushes and went right to town on her. Simultaneously, she heard Barbara's voice mocking her again...

"Welcome to the big girls' house, Dixie."

Erica's gears were automatically thrown into reverse against her will. Electric vibrations buzzed against her skin all over: her underarms, her belly, her thighs, the soles of her delicate feet. Her inconsolable sobbing was disrupted and put on indefinite hiatus as screamingly intense laughter exploded out of her. It took only seconds for frantic babbling begging to follow.

"AAAAHAAHAAAAAAHAAAPLEEEEEHEEEEEASESTOOOOPIHAAAAHAAAHAAATETHIIIIHIIIIIHIISSSS!!"

It was true; she hadn't been lying to the sisters Monday morning, declaring just how much she despised having her feet—or any spot on her body, really—tickled. Her feet were just slightly more sensitive than the rest.

"MAAAHAAAAAAMIIIHIIISSSCOOOHOORTLINPLEEEEEHEEEASEHEEEHEEEHELPMEEEEE!!"

The sisters guffawed. "She's not helping you, silly girl!" cackled Babs.

"On the contrary; she likes this!" commented Sandy.

Danielle chimed in. "Yup, another Civil War, and looks like you lost again, Suthun frahd chickadee!"

But it made no difference which spot was technically the most ticklish; they were all being assaulted. The brushes jumped about her—armpits to boobs, tummy to ribs, thighs to pussy lips, soles to toes—as she felt fingers and nails join in. When her genitalia were added to the offended regions, Erica's laughter morphed to pure shrieking. Her neurological system could not determine whether she was being forced to laugh or shout. All she could do was whip her face from side to side, projecting bits of chocolate marble cake all over. Earlier in the afternoon, when the sisters had sent her out to the bakery half-naked, when she came back she was so frigid she was almost blue. Her lips had turned purple. Now under her cake facial, she was red as a beet.

Denise picked up Barbara's camera and readied another roll of film in it. The next thing Erica heard thoroughly drove her humiliation home. It was a series of flashes going off.

"That's it, smile for us!" she heard one sadistic voice sing.

"Oh, what a scrapbook we've gonna have for you!" came another.

"Won't your Mommy just be SO proud of you, young lady!" exclaimed another, buzzing the girl's cunt. When they found how wild she went having her pussy jolted, they naturally took merciless advantage of it, opening her labia and really terrorizing her. The laughter swirled around her and tortured her mind. She was going crazy. Actually, in point of fact she had passed crazy long ago. Her present level of delirium had yet to be defined in words. But in the midst of this insanity, someone chimed in.

"Excuse me, ladies."

Erica felt the vibrating bristles and furiously digging fingers relent on her. Miss Cortlin was speaking.

"I have a proposition to offer Miss Smith."

The sisters looked to one another in silence as they awaited this development.

Miss Cheri Cortlin smiled, crossing her legs. "If our young Miss Smith...can be brought to orgasm, via any feasible method..."

Erica just barely managed to raise her head, throwing an incredulous expression in Miss Cortlin's direction.

"...For my entertainment...I will allow her into the sorority."

"Oooooh..." some of the sisters' voices overlapped. "IN-teresting!..."

"WHAT?!!" Erica screeched.

"This is my offer, Miss Smith," she heard Miss Cortlin reply. "You may take it or leave it."

Erica couldn't find words. "Bu—y—d—tha—...you're ins—...that's insane!"

"Is it, Miss Smith?"

"Y—...yes! Miss-Miss Cortlin, what do y—...you think I'm a lesbian?? I'm straight! I can't orgasm with girls!"

"Perhaps not directly," said Cheri, "But supposing you were to...pleasure yourself for us?"

Erica just about threw up in her mouth. Being starved for sexual action and deciding to jill off of her own volition was one thing, but being blackmailed into doing it by a bunch of girls and their vindictive house mother made her literally ill.

"That's disgustin'!" she screamed. "You're freakin' sick! Y'ALL're sick! I'm not doin' that!!"

"Aw, that's really rather a shame, Miss Smith," Miss Cortlin said calmly. "I was quite looking forward to such a performance. Well, I suppose we'll just have to, uh...convince you to do this for us then. Ladies?...Care to continue the honors?"

The sisters laughed wickedly at her. A couple of them cheered. Suddenly, 19-year-old Erica Smith saw her doom sealed.

"OHGODNOOOOOOOOO! PLEEEEEEEEASE!!"

Erica erupted as they again lowered the toothbrushes to her trembling body.

But this time, something intervened. A knock came on the door, just loud enough to be heard over Erica's outbursts. Hearing it, the sisters instinctively jumped in front of Erica's supine body, sitting around her to block view from their visitors.

"Yes?" called Miss Cortlin.

It was the dean of students, Mr. Eeples. He pushed the door open just enough to address them.

"Good afternoon, girls, Miss Cortlin. As you may or may not be aware, the intercom system is malfunctioning, so we're going door to door to update you on a major shift in our chain of command. As I have recently announced, as of today, I have retired."

"Oh yes, we are well aware, Mr. Eeples," said Miss Cortlin. "And thank you so much for everything you've done for us over the years. We'll miss you dearly."

"As shall I you," he replied. "And in my stead then, ladies, I'd like to introduce you to your new dean of students, effective immediately: Mrs. Florence Smith."

Florence waved at them, by Mr. Eeples' side. "Howdy, y'all!" she called.

"Mama??"

The sisters heard the scared, teary voice. Their eyes shot open. They whipped their stunned gazes behind them.

"'Mama'?" they uttered in unison.

Florence poked her head into the room. "E—...Erica?...Did-did I hear my daughter's voice?"

The sisters were abruptly very uneasy.

"New dean of students"..."Mama"?

They suddenly felt an icy chill of doom descending slowly upon them. Too shocked to say anything, their eyes filled with horror to hear Erica yell out—

"MAMA!! Mama, help me! Help! They're torturin' me!"

Florence and Mr. Eeples, unaware anything was going on, rushed in. "What's going on here?" Mr. Eeples demanded to know.

"Where's my daughter?!" overlapped Florence.

The terrified sisters backed up over Erica's body, trying to conceal her, though they knew the jig was up. Her mother and Mr. Eeples hurried around them to find her cuffed up and naked on the floor.

Florence gasped. "Erica!" she exclaimed. "My God! Baby, what in hell happened?!"

"Mama, I told you, they're torturin' me!!"

No one else had the guts to say a thing. But now that they couldn't hide her anymore, the sisters jumped up and all but hid behind their now equally anxious house mother.

A less surprised Mr. Eeples looked down at the girl, hands on hips, shaking his head. "Miss Cortlin...girls..."

It seemed an eternity before he spoke again. The girls could only imagine what trouble they were in.

"...To say that I am disappointed in you right now...is an understatement. I warned you about these extreme hazing rituals."

The sisters looked guiltily at the floor, breathing heavily.

"M-M-Mr. Eeples, Mrs. Smith, I can explain!" insisted Cheri Cortlin.

"Oh, can you?" challenged Mr. Eeples, as he and Florence crossed their arms. "Okay; go right ahead."

"Yes, indeed, go ahead!" urged Florence. "I can't wait to hear this."

Their angry, disappointed stares were too intimidating for Miss Cortlin to think of anything to say. She only stammered. Nothing came forth in the way of a coherent explanation.

Eventually, Mr. Eeples sighed. "That's what I thought," he mumbled. "Well, Mrs. Smith, shall I leave this one in your court?"

"Oh, I think I can take it from here," Florence snarled, not taking her glaring eyes off the sisters. "Thank you, Mr. Eeples."

"Very well," he agreed. "Miss Cortlin? My office, please. Right now, if you would."

The terrified sisters watched as their house mother rose to follow the almost-former dean to the door. They could only return their eyes to the carpet as their new dean stood over them, tapping her foot on the floor.

"I'd release her right about now if I were you," came the authoritatively ominous voice.

Sandra, Barbara and Danielle snuck back over to Erica's still body on the floor, and took her hands and feet out of the cuffs.

"Why's there cake all over her face??"

The only one who responded to this question was Denise.

"...It's a long story, Mrs. Smith."

"Yes, well, it's gon' to be a long night for the five of y'all if you don't start talkin'."

Gradually, the sisters laid out what had been going on for Mrs. Smith, as did Miss Cortlin for Mr. Eeples. Subsequently, Erica told her mother about all the horrible things the sisters did to her and her friends, and made them do as well.

"W-we were just having some harmless fun," Sandra pitifully squeaked.

Florence glared at them, penetrating their souls with fear.

"I don't know how you define 'harmless,'" she spoke, quietly, intensely, with a dark foreshadowing of what soon was to follow. "But y'see, in my mind, things like hot coals, screw tacks, virtual nudity in thirty-degree weather and all-around bullyin' and humiliation in general are far from harmless. Now, how exactly do you feel this situation should be rectified?"

The sisters looked to one another in silence.

Mrs. Smith turned to her daughter. "Erica, have you any suggestions?"

Erica rubbed her hands together, enjoying this already.

"Well, I think first of all, apologies are in order..." she stated, in a tone that made it clear she wasn't finished.

"That's a terrific idea indeed," agreed her Mom. She turned back to the girls, who remained silent for several moments.

"We're waitin'."

"...S-sorry...we're sorry..." the sisters mumbled, awkwardly bumbling over each other's voices.

"Mm, a little half-hearted, but we'll let it go," Florence evaluated. "Anything else?"

Erica pretended to think about it. "Hmm, let's see..." she pondered, tapping her chin. "Oh yes, I would like them to invite back my friends and apologize to them too. Tabby, Arlene, Elaine, Tiff, all of 'em. I'd like us all to be allowed into the sorority."

"Fiorello?? The airhead??" questioned Danielle, before Babs elbowed her in the side.

Florence nodded once more. "Well, that sounds fair to me. Don't you agree, girls?"

The sisters didn't say anything more just now, but Erica did.

"Oh! Yes! I know! I think these skanks need to learn a lesson from this, and know exactly how what they put me through felt."

"Theeeere it is!" Florence smirked, hitting upon the same thought. "How 'bout it, gals? I think our student body would find the entertainment of such a show about hazin' rituals in reverse quite amusin'! Don't y'all??"

"Oh, I do!" said Erica gleefully. "Payback's a bitch, is she not?"

Her mother turned sternly to her. "Erica..."

"Sorry, Mama. Correction: payback's a real bitch."

Florence turned back to the sisters with a righteous, karmic leer of justice. "That's better."

Erica giggled impishly. "Looks like the house lost this time, ladies!"