Shortly after my birthday Kat, who is as mad as a March-Hare and works in the same office as I do, talked me into going to a house warming party. I didn't particularly want to go, for one thing I didn't know the guy who was having the party so it stood to reason that I wouldn't know anyone else either, except Kat, and that was part of the problem. I knew Kat would probably desert me as soon as we arrived, or shortly after so I tried every excuse I could think of, but Kat wouldn't take no for an answer. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be. Her biggest argument was that we hadn't gone out to celebrate my birthday and this was an ideal opportunity to celebrate. Reluctantly I conceded and arrangements were made.

The party was Friday evening and Kat arranged to meet me at my place. I made an effort, bought a bottle of wine on my way home from the office to take along and after dinner got myself showered and dressed. I didn't wear anything daring; I'm not into revealing tops and short skirts. You see, I am convinced that I was born long after my time. In my world, my secret world, I longed for the romances of old, where men were gentlemen and romance was conducted at a more formal level. Love letters with lines of poetry, chaperons and stolen kisses, not to mention the Sunday afternoon walks by the river after church.

Typically Kat was late by about twenty minutes. I honestly thought she wasn't going to turn up, that it had all been some stupid practical joke. She breezed in loud and flamboyant, looked me up and down and gave a little tut-tut of disapproval. It was obvious that Kat had dressed to draw attention to herself. I made no comment on the fact. Next to Kat's figure hugging dress with its low-cut front, I looked positively conservative in my open collared, short-sleeved plain white blouse and straight, knee length skirt. Not even Kat's infamous powers of persuasion could get me to change into anything remotely matching her state of semi-nakedness. By way of compromise I did agree to allow her to pin my hair up, but this only made her more determined that I should change into something more party'ish. Thankfully time was on my side and Kat was forced to give up when the taxi arrived.

The taxi ride was a good half-hour across town and out into the country. We had a bit of trouble finding the place because Scott's house was a detached cottage in the middle of nowhere. The party appeared to be in full swing, loud music greeted us as soon as we pulled up. Kat jumped out and headed straight up the garden, leaving me to pay the fare!

It was a nice looking house, quite roomy with three good sized rooms downstairs. A kind of makeshift bar had been set up in the kitchen, in a second room a buffet had been laid out and in the third, music was playing and people were dancing. At a guess, I'd say there were approximately thirty people present, all circulating smoothly between the three rooms. Kat introduced me to some of the crowd. They seemed a friendly enough bunch, not really the gang of yobs I had half-expected Kat to hang around with.

For the first hour I followed Kat around like a lost puppy as she moved from one group to another, flirting with guys and saying hello to friends. It seemed that every time I took a sip from my glass someone was at my elbow offering to top it up. Trying to be polite, I found it almost impossible to say no, and when I did, I was teased into submission.

Kat appeared to be quite popular with everyone and I felt a bit foolish following her around all the time so I quietly melted into the background and settled myself down on a small sofa out of the way. So there I was, in a house full of people I didn't know, where most were imitating having sex under the guise of dancing. The drunker they got the more intense became their gyrating and crude thrusting of loins. I think Kat was keeping tabs on me from a distance because my glass was never empty, needless to say I was starting to feel a little light headed, but not to the point where I wasn't in control of myself, I would never allow that to happen.

I suddenly found myself staring at the crotch of someone's trouser front. My eyes rolled up, travelling the length of a gaudy looking Spiderman tie to be greeted by the strangest looking smile I have ever seen. It looked like the cheek muscles of his face had gone into spasm, pulling the outer edges of his mouth out and up to fix the smile permanently in place. I smiled weakly, and was tempted to let him know that the fly of his trousers were half open, but that would imply I had been looking; not that he had given me much choice considering he had stepped up right in front of me.

"Hi, I'm Gregg." He offered me his hand.

"Sandy." I replied, feeling a tad silly sitting on the sofa at a party and shaking someone's hand.

"I know, we were introduced earlier," That weird looking smile of his returned, or was it a grimace? His gaze fixed briefly at the top of my blouse and I wondered if a button had popped, my hand rose instinctively to check. He suddenly looked at me awkwardly, his face beginning to flush. "I was wondering — could I sit with you?"

Oh God! "Oh err... Sure." My turn to feel embarrassed!

I shuffled along the small sofa that I had deliberately managed to occupy all by myself. He sat himself beside me and it was all a little too cosy for comfort. I glanced at him sideways and caught sight of him staring at my chest. His eyes met mine and he flashed me that ridiculous looking smile of his.

"You're very pretty you know."

Please don't do this to me now! "Thank you." I sipped from my glass, feeling a hot flush sweeping up to wash across my face.

"But then I expect you hear that all the time?" His gaze returned to my blouse.

"Yes... I mean NO!"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

WHAT!?

My prayers were answered at that precise moment because much to my relief Gregg was dragged off to join in a knobbly-knees contest some of the girls were organising. It was quite funny watching all the lads roll up their trouser legs to show off their knees for the half-dozen-or-so girls acting as judges.

The room started to fill with more spectators as the line of guys increased and the number of girls inspecting the knees on offer swelled. If a guy was tapped on the shoulder he was dismissed from the line until eventually a winner was found. The night had progressed from sex-simulation on the dance floor to knobbly-knee contests, and was moving on to a best bust competition — where some of the girls actually took their tops off to bare their bras as the men voted on who had the best-bust.

Fortunately Gregg was much too distracted by the display of boobs to pay me any further attention and I sat quietly watching as he got roped into the next competition. The guys all lined up and the women paraded behind them, giggling to each other as they made comments about a man's ass — an ass, the literal term was correct, they were making right asses of themselves. After much debate, it was decided that one of the men had a sexier bum than the others and he was declared the winner. From here on it was all downhill as they entered the rounds of sexy underwear games.

We had everything from nice, conservative panties, to thongs and micro panties where practically nothing was concealed. Bra's that pulled up and held up, lacy bras to transparent bras. Frankly, they might just as well have removed the lot and been done with it! Guy's in shorts, some with extension's pressing out from the front displaying their state of arousal to the delight of the chortling girls. Others wore pouches, looking like ballet dancers with the legs cut out of their leggings. And then there were the thongs — men, it seemed, had taken to wearing women's underwear.

God, I was bored. A combination of the alcohol and boredom meant I was fighting to stay awake. I began to dream up excuses for calling a taxi and sneaking back home to a nice cup of hot chocolate in front of the fire. Deep inside I knew Kat would be offended at my disappearance and tomorrow there would be repercussions. Simpler to endure it, return home later in our shared taxi and concur what a great night it had been. Write it up in the diary under the bold heading, 'Never Again'.

Suddenly all the lads were leaving and heading for the room across the hall. I was confused by their departure and for the life of me couldn't work out what was going on. The room buzzed with excitement as the door closed and drinks were poured. One of the girls appeared to take charge and everyone settled down as she told us that we had divided into two rooms for a very special event. From the chortles and cat calls, a good many evidently knew exactly what that meant. It had been suggested that one of us girls would go through and do a complete striptease for the guys. In exchange, one of the guys would do a similar turn for us.

The idea of watching some guy take all his clothes off and make an ass of himself while waving his naked willie around, was of some mild interest, if only for the absurdity of it. Not that I would get to see much; I'd stay unobtrusively on the sofa in my little dark corner out of the way.

A noisy discussion followed the announcement of the striptease acts, some shrieked gleefully at the idea of one of the guys coming to bare all before us. The room positively buzzed at the audacity of the idea and when everyone was asked to raise a hand in favour of the proposal, there was an immediate show of hands. I felt little inclination to offer my objection when the time came, especially as nobody else did. Besides, sitting in the corner, nobody would have noticed if I had.

The atmosphere was electric as the women set about trying to find a volunteer who would strip in front of the men. I kept right out of it; in fact I wanted nothing to do with it and left them to haggle among themselves. What I wanted was to go home, but as the taxi wasn't due to arrive for another two hours I was stuck. When one girl had firmly resisted a great deal of persuasion to take the job and a volunteer couldn't be found, it was decided that a name would be drawn from a hat.

Everyone's name was written down on a piece of paper which was neatly folded and placed in the container. We were warned that as we had all agreed to the volunteer being drawn from the hat (except me, but I hadn't voiced my disagreement so they assumed my consent), the name drawn would have to do it. It was then stated that if the person drawn refused to participate, she would be handed over to the guys in the other room where they could strip her themselves. We were asked if we considered this fair, nervously the room conceded that it was.

Behind the facade of smiling faces and boisterous laughter it was possible to detect a tense edge to the atmosphere. People eyed each other warily, wondering who would be chosen, would it be them? What if it was? The room fell silent. A name was extract.

"And the lucky girl is..."

The room erupted, more out of relief than anything else. You guessed it — Sandy! I just sat there totally stunned as people asked who Sandy was. Those that had remembered me pointed in my direction and pretty soon the whole room was looking at me! How could this be? I certainly didn't feel lucky. How did my name get in that container — Kat?

Kat stood across the room, hand covering her gapping mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter. Everyone was looking at me, clapping and laughing; more out of relief that it wasn't their name that had been drawn from the container than anything else. My insides were knotting and twisting up as I sat in a frozen state of horror.

Kat tried to console me, although I knew it was false. It's difficult to accept comfort from someone who is fighting back a smile of glee; harder still when she sat with her arm around me telling me that it was just a bit of harmless fun, easy for her to say. I hadn't wanted to take part — remember.

"Kat, I don't want to do this — I can't!"

"Then you should have raised your objection at the appropriate time." She cooed gently in my ear.

"It's a stupid idea," I told her fiercely under my breath in an attempt to avoid eavesdroppers. "You can't leave a girl in a room on her own with a bunch of guys and expect her to take all her clothes off — anything could happen!" And it was the anything I was particularly worried about.

"Nobody will touch you Sandy, trust me," She replied rather smugly. "If they do, just scream blue-bloody-murder and we'll all come rushing to your rescue — I promise."

Kat was right of course, there was nothing I could say in my defence; I should have raised my objection when I had the chance. But I did, I lied. It did no good, a liar is soon found out, only sooner in my case. Kat had seen me, deliberately watched to see if I raised my hand.

"Think of yourself as a sacrifice from one of your old romantic novels — a sacred offering in exchange for our reward."

Easy words, a sacrifice — but don't worry dear, the Titan won't eat you! "Kat, there is a room full of men, what do you think they are going to do with a naked woman?"

"Look — nothing more, I promise. And if they do — which they won't — just scream and we'll be there."

We had gone full circle, I was not convinced, but there was little point in arguing further. I had lost, my name had been pulled from the hat and that was all there was to it. I would either have to go along with it, or find myself being fed to the lions like the proverbial lamb being led to slaughter.

Meanwhile the girls were making ready for their mysterious stripper to arrive by selecting some music for him. Everyone was in really high spirits and looking forward to the coming event. I was numb with shock, trying to come to terms with what had happened and what was about to take place. My senses reeled as I gulped back the glass Kat thrust into my hand and I tried desperately to think of a way out.

All the alcohol induced fog that had clouded my brain only minutes before had been swept away. I felt stone cold sober as I found myself surrounded by smiling faces, thanking me. Others patted my shoulder and congratulated me. Congratulating me? Unless it was the very fact that they didn't have to remove their clothes in front of a group of men that was worthy of praise. Keep those drinks coming Kat!

In a trance like state I was led down the hallway, a noisy procession of grateful and happy women leading their sacrifice to the lair of men in exchange for a gift of their own. We gathered outside the closed door, me at the head, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer. I wanted a pee. Muted tones disseminated through from the room beyond. Someone knocked on the door. It wasn't me. I didn't want that door to open!

I stood outside the door with this big lead weight right where my stomach use to be. This was crazy — so stupid of me, I didn't have to do this? But at that moment in time there seemed no way out. I wished more than anything that I hadn't allowed Kat to talk me into attending this ridiculous party. A loud cheer suddenly burst through the door. I guessed they had just found their volunteer. Moments later the door opened and a young man was pushed from the room. He was quickly gathered up by the escort behind me and led away. We barely acknowledged each other in passing as hands took me and herded me inside.

The door closed and I suddenly felt snared. Dazed, I stood beside the door looking across a crowded room filled with excited looking faces.

"Whoa! Look at you — what's your name sweetheart?"

I tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"Kitty!" Someone cried, "Let's call her Kitty!"

They laughed...

"Here... pussy, pussy, pussy!"

They laughed some more...

"There's a nice Kitty!"

My stomach did a series of flip-flops, each one adding to the expanse of hollowness in the pit of my stomach. Hadn't that same spot just been filled with a lead-weight? Someone appeared at my side and said something soothing as I allowed myself to be gently guided across the room. Men moved before me like the parting of the biblical sea, until we came to stop before a heavyset table.

"Your stage." The voice beside me explained. "Slip off your shoes and climb aboard."

Jesus! This was really going to happen. Deep down I had held on to the hope that this was all some crazy stunt. On seeing the buffet had been cleared from the table and my stage had been moved out into the middle of the room, I knew this was no practical joke. I was going to have to stand up there and take all my clothes off!

I don't know how I got to the table. One moment the sea of bodies was parting before me, the next I was standing with my bottom pressed to the table edge, looking round the row of lecherous faces staring at me. I hovered reluctantly before the table. I was as equally unwilling to remove my clothes from the top of the table as I was off it. I spotted Gregg. He was staring straight at my boobs again, that stupid grin of his had gone, replaced by something more intense.

From the other room you could hear the girls shouting and squealing. At least the guys were being a little more civilised about things, but it occurred to me that Kat's promise of rescue should things get out of hand was unlikely to be fulfilled as they would never hear me above their own racket.

Behind me they were beginning to sense my dissent and started to mutter their annoyance. Someone suggested that perhaps I needed some help out of my clothes. Several others immediately agreed, they had kept their side of the bargain and I should be forced into keeping the girl's side of the arrangement. I was the sacrificial offering.

I had no intention of letting any one of them lay so much as a finger on me. If they undressed me I knew things would quickly get out of hand and I would stand no chance against so many of them. Without any further prompting, I pulled myself up onto the table and sat facing them, kicking my shoes off to the accompaniment of a loud cheer.