Cult initiation

Rose ran through the puddle. Why was the weather always wetter on Wednesdays? It didn't really matter; nothing was going to dampen her spirits. She reached the double doors and rapped out the secret knock Grace had taught her. One door slowly creaked open and she hurriedly stepped inside.

And promptly gasped. Rose knew the Order of Weavers was a strange bunch, but she wasn't expecting to see the rows upon rows of people. All wore wine colored robes that were hooded and floor length. All were indistinguishable except for their elegant masks, glistening in the dim light.

"You are late, applicant," the robed figures parted to reveal the speaker. Her mask was more elaborate; it had antlers that extended around her hooded head like a tiara. Her gloved hand held a riding crop that she snapped through the air, while adding "your first infraction."

"I-I'm sorry," stammered Rose, "I got h--"

The crop whistled through the air again. "And you're improperly attired: your second infraction."

Rose looked around at the crowd of cowls, pleading for a morsel of support. "Grace didn't give me any--"

"Using an outside name: your third infraction," interrupted the sullen leader. "Remove the offending garments. You will be given robes once you've earned them."

Rose gasped, and looked at the crowd of masked faces. She couldn't strip in front of so many. No club was worth that. Yet she felt some magnetic pull and her hands wandered to the buttons on her blouse before she could talk herself out of it.

By the time Rose's skirt slid down her shapely legs, her cheeks were flushed hot. She lived in a small town, and there were a lot of masked people here. How many of them were her coworkers, neighbors, or friends. Standing in just her plane blue bra and panty set, Rose thought she heard a snicker. It sounded like that bitch Ashley. Fuck, she'd really love to embarrass Rose like this.

Losing her nerve, the shy young woman thought about getting dressed and running away from this crazy club. But as her eyes darted to where she'd placed her clothes, she saw they were gone. For a moment she thought about running home in just her underwear, but decided it was better to stay here.

The crop sailed through the air again. "Taking too long to undress: your forth infraction. The punishment phase will be very interesting tonight." A subtle laugh murmured through the faceless crowd.

Rose blushed, finding herself darkly curious of what that ominous comment meant. She reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, her young breasts dipping slightly as she freed them. Her cheeks continuing to redden, the nearly naked woman really hoped Tiffany wasn't watching her.

Only her panties were left. Rose wanted to keep them on as long as possible, but she also didn't want to further disappoint the elegant leader. And if she was honest with herself she was a bit excited to see what was next. So before she could get cold feet again, Rose hurriedly and awkwardly jerked her sole remaining garment down her thighs until gravity was able to take over.

Stepping away from her last bit of cloth, Rose became almost painfully aware of how naked she was. Despite not seeing the observers faces, she could feel their eyes on her body, examining every inch of her. She knew they were scrutinizing her, her cute button nose, her fidgeting toes, and everything in between. Did they think she was a slut for having a shaved pussy? She wanted to cover herself, but it didn't feel appropriate. "May I have some clothes now?" she asked, her voice barely more than a squeak.

"Not yet," soothed the leader who was now behind her somehow. "but we have some enticing oil to tide you over." Her breath tickled Rose's ear, distracting the naked woman from what her hands were doing. Firm leather gloves began rubbing a strange ointment into Rose's soft skin. It started with just the matron's hands roaming her body, but other pairs of hands joined in the fun as the crowd shuffled closer. Their touch lingered until Rose felt like she was encased in leather even as the frisky hands pulled away.

Now with some space around her, Rose looked down again. She was still stark naked, but her skin buzzed with the constricting feeling of leather. She took stilted steps forward, feeling like she was tugging against a tight gimp suit. On the third step, however, her invisible clothing changed; it felt like soft silk. She nervously bit her lip allured by the tender caress of the transparent oil. It continued to tingle against her, but only as she moved. If she stood still the sensations abruptly stopped.

The glistening sheen now reminded her of the gauzy tutu she wore in her ballerina days. Rose couldn't resist performing a pirouette, feeling heavenly clouds kiss her skin as she spun. Her hands flowed gracefully into her pristine pose. The onlookers chuckled, and Rose blushed hotly, having briefly forgotten she was naked for the stunt.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your first gift," the masked leader said. Rose couldn't tell if her tone was mocking or genuine. "It is now time for you to show your appreciation." She strutted towards the crowd which parted to reveal a covered pedestal. With a flourish, the leader removed the cloth, baring the pedestal's artifact for Rose.

The nervous initiate gasped at the sight before her. It seemed that this cult was the real deal.