<b>Kitch Kitchinson - Dining Hall. </b><br/><br/>So her plan to look between the floor and ceiling whilst all the flesh was on display was quickly thwarted when the commanding presence of Juli Harper began to descend the staircase. A hush fell upon everyone in the room drawing all eyes to the only sound being made, the footsteps of their leader and with that angle, she sure looked like a leader.<br/>Wait a minute... was she not wearing any underwear?<br/>The thought buzzed inside the blondes head for a second but she quickly blinked it away, telling herself she was being pretty stupid to think something so lewd about her new authority figure. No, couldn't have been nothing there, it had to be instead a poor choice of colour. Skin toned. That must have been it. She must have been wearing skin toned underwear, with a crease down the middle - it would be the only thing to make sense. What woman would forget to put on underwear after all?<br/><br/>Once this thought had been banished and Juli had begun her vulture-like circling of the pledges, Kitch couldn't help but let her eyes wonder over the underwear choices of her fellow pledges. Everyone was standing to attention, so she didn't obviously turn her head to gawk, but that didn't stop the odd side ways glance or her peripheral vision taking in whatever gems of threads clung to the figures close by. She took in the words of the fearsome leader, only half hearing them and not at all taking in the twisted meaning behind some of the thinly veiled buzz words.<br/>Her petite frame shifted slightly and pulled tighter on the muscles in her back, straightened some more as she felt the need to look more respectable in the presence of the silent room. This feeling went hand in hand with her straying eyes. Knowing she was doing something wrong wanted her to make it look as though she were doing something right. She didn't want to bring attention to the fact that she was eyeing every stitch of the garments of the wonderful figures beside her, instead she'd try her very best to blend as much as physically possible by being a perfect pledge. To any on looker, she would have looked like the perfect perv no doubt.<br/><br/>Suddenly Juli's voice grew louder and Kitch snapped out of her straying gazes.<br/>A seat? Lovely, that would be nice. A comfy bench, in fact anything would do, then they could get some breakfast on the go and get to the bonding and friendship sororities promised in all those rose tinted scenes from American movies she'd watched before.<br/><br/>And then it came out.<br/><br/>"The fuck..?" Was just about all that could fall from Kitch's lips in a thick British accent as her eyes scanned across the bench and took in the sight of each impressively sized dildo. Okay, she may have been a bit brazen with the 'anything would do' thought. This would not do.<br/>Icy blues darted up and looked over the 'sister's standing opposite the pledges. She was waiting for a cracked smile, some raised brows or an all out belly laugh, one had to crack surly this couldn't be expected of them. Then again, with all the girls dropping to their knees and deep throating the damn things, it clearly was expected and in some cases looked welcome.<br/>Once again Kitch brought her eyes up, looking over the sisters to be greeted now by a chanting and the musically accompaniment of table tops being pelted to create an the atmosphere.<br/>Fine. If this was it, she could do it.<br/>Her eyes dropped back to the seat, a lime green rod stood proudly before her. It was fat and warped with ridges.<br/>Her eyes fell further to look at her own pelvis. Back to the dildo.<br/>Okay... so that had to go in there.<br/><br/>Kitch glanced over the girls who had been stood beside her. Most of them were already seated but by the few left it became clear that spit was the only lubricant available. She stepped forward, brought her hand to her mouth and opened wide, dragging her tongue up the flat of her palm before wrapping her hand around the toy and swishing it off.<br/>The blonde may as well have had 'VIRGIN' stamped across her forehead, perhaps with an underscore of 'naive idiot'.<br/>She stepped over the bench, hooked her underwear to one side and plopped herself down.<br/><br/>Ow. Ow, ow, ow OW!!<br/>Her mind was screaming and it was probably evident by the tears welling in her eyes that was not nearly enough lube. But no other part of her showed the pain or regret. The english - stiff upper lip and all that. She would hold it in and fake it as much as she could. Even if sliding down that cock was like the equivalent of driving along a road made entirely of pot holes in a car made in the early 1800s. Eventually cheeks kissed the bench and she lifted slightly quivering hands to the tables edge, placing them gently and blinking away the wells collecting in her lower lids.