Fribbing Stories

I feel the black silk of the hooded robe they’ve put on me over my naked, oiled body after my hands were loosely bound behind my back. I’m blindfolded, and being marched onstage, flanked, I think, by two people. Hands grip my arms lightly from both sides, positioning me just so. I stand for several heartbeats, then an amplified voice – Mistress Andrea’s – speaks in a formal manner, her voice echoing through what must be D...