"So dark and ancient."

The spanking machine in the Downknicker Gallery is not like the sorority sex dungeon, in that it’s big enough to hold all fourteen pledges at once.

“You know,” says Tiffany, holding a glass of wine, strolling with The Viper across the gallery floor, “I’m going to miss the girls once Hell Week is over.”

“You could always just say they didn’t pass, and they have to do Hell Week again.”

“Great idea! Why didn’t I think of that!”

“OWWW!” The revolving paddles ruthlessly pepper Meg and Kitty’s upturned pert tomboy and skater-girl asses with stinging spanks, turning their buttocks a bright shade of red. The gallery’s open to the public, and hundreds of people have been drifting in and out all day, watching and laughing and taking pictures. The fourteen nude blushing girls are pinned down in a row, tits swaying and jiggling beneath them, derrieres in the air, pussies peeping between their parted legs. The iron bonds that hold them are inescapable. “OW OW OWWW!”

“Hey, Meg. How are you doing?” You pop into existence beside her. “Haven’t seen you for a while!”

“OWW! SITRI! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!”

“No can do, sugarplum. That dark ancient magic is just, you know, so dark and ancient. Just hang tight. I’m sure in a day or two we’ll have a fix.”

“NOOO! GET ME OUT NOWWWW!”

“Just have to grin and bear it, sweetheart. Bye!”