Bonnie entertains the sultan's guests

Why was the costume so damn hard to take off?

The sensation was unbearable. Like a thousand tiny electric shocks against her skin, a million little whirring pinwheels applied directly to her nipples and labia. She hopped from toe to toe, tingling all over, yelping in agony as the crowd sat forward, newly engaged by this twist in the narrative. Susie, of course, was in a similar predicament.

Bonnie really really didn't want to have to strip. But she couldn't tolerate the tickling for even a single moment longer. She fumbled for the straps of the silk bikini, finding it almost impossible to concentrate as she struggled to undo a maddeningly intricate series of impossibly tight knots. She twisted, gyrated, stumbled over her own feet, almost in time to the music, a wild-eyed dance of passionate discomfort that drew every eye in the tent.

Finally, the first knot came loose. Another followed. It took several long, long minutes for Bonnie to liberate herself from the infuriatingly tight costume, first prying off the top and flinging it away into the crowd, then squirming out of her bottoms while her freckled breasts bounced and swayed. She finally peeled them off her feet, balancing on one foot to do it, and hurled them as far as she could, not wanting to look at them a minute longer.

The music was silent. A hush had fallen over the crowd. Bonnie looked out at the sea of smiling faces, and bit her lip.

"The sultan's guests were heartily amused," said Mr. Trapp. "The girls were not. But it was far too late. They could hardly go back on their words, not without suffering the just and well-deserved punishment administered in the sultan's kingdom to oathbreakers."

Susie whimpered. She and Bonnie stood back to back.

"They had removed their costumes of their own free will. So they would have to dance all night long... naked."

The music began to play again.

Slowly, Bonnie's hips began to move. Her hands twined in the air, well away from her body, offering her bouncing breasts, her shimmying thighs and the ginger bush between her legs no protection whatsoever. When her legs kicked in the air, there was nobody in the room who failed to get a peek at her shell-pink labia and the gleaming wetness of her pussy.

Her cheeks were twin flames, her green eyes pleaded for release. But she couldn't stop herself from dancing. She wiggled her bottom seductively, dozens of eyes glued to her swaying breasts. Hank, lying back on a cushion with a hookah in his hand, looked her up and down and grinned.

"Hey, Bonnie," he yelled. "I know what I can see now! You're NAKED!" he added, in case she hadn't got it.