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Gwen: Bound for a New Life

By: Calandria



Gwen picked her cell phone out of her handbag with the irritation she reserved for anything which interrupted her weekly shopping expedition, but her mood brightened when her friend of many years, Julie, came on the line, and suggested a coffee. She agreed readily.

Half an hour later they were sitting outside the store enjoying a latte and a biscuit, chatting idly. Then Julie quite suddenly broached a subject Gwen had not been expecting at all, but one which had been uppermost in her thoughts for a long time. 

'How's your sex-life, girl?' she asked, abruptly.

'Er...well,' started Gwen, reddening.

'We friends, or what?'

'Of course,' she replied, stirring her coffee vigorously. 'As you ask, it's gone a bit...humdrum. In need of...well, something...' She tailed off lamely.

Julie was looking at her with a peculiar intensity. 'I have a bunch of friends who might be able to help. I understand Roger is going away for a time?'

It was true. Gwen's husband was due to go off to the Middle East on business in the next few days, and would be away for several months. Even without his forthcoming absence, she was feeling empty - as if something was missing from her life. Then, only last week, she had been sorting through cupboards, preparing his things for the journey, when she came across some videos - old ones, nothing very special, she thought at first, except that one took her eye - it was 'The Story of O.' 

She watched it, fascinated. Not pornography, by any means, but she was soon so wet she had to go and change her panties, as 'O' was chained, whipped and brutally sodomised, but gave such a show of haughty disdain, pleasure even.

But Julie was waiting for a reply.

'What sort of friends?'

'I have seen it in you - friends who can give you what I think you may crave, Gwen,' she said, 'I think you know what I mean.'

'Are you...? I mean...' started Gwen, but Julie cut her off. 'Let me put someone in touch with you, when Roger has gone, eh?'

No more was said, and Roger duly departed the following week. Gwen was sat at her reception desk the following day, when a tall stranger walked in, wearing a casual leather jacket and chinos. He had a square chin and piercing grey eyes.

He walked directly up and shook her hand. 'I am John. You have been expecting me, I think.'

She didn't know what to say at the direct approach, but knew immediately that this was the man Julie had sent. 

He saw that she was looking for a response, and said, quite formally, 'If you would care to dine with me, I will send a package to your home tomorrow, and expect you tomorrow evening. Good day to you.' Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out. Gwen was speechless. 

Next day was Saturday, and Gwen could hardly wait to see what the 'package' was all about. If it came! Sure enough, about four in the afternoon, a messenger appeared, with a long box, fastened with a red ribbon, and a small shoe-box.

She opened the shoe-box first and an envelope fell out. It contained a card, written in beautiful script. It read: Remove any vestige of hair on your body, and wear what is in these boxes, nothing else. I will have you collected at eight.

Beneath the envelope were a pair of white sandals, with very high metallic needle heels.

She put them down and set the long box down on the sofa, impatiently tearing open the ribbon. When she lifted the lid, and the tissue below it, she saw it contained a white silk garment. Nervously, she took it out, and held it up, so that it fell out in front of her. It was a long soft silk sheath-dress, long-sleeved and high-necked, which looked as if it would cover her decorously, were it not for the facts that it appeared to be a very tight fit, and that it consisted of very flimsy material. She found herself wondering how on earth she could wear something like this 'and nothing else.'

After a chat with Julie on the telephone, however, she felt renewed confidence and hummed cheerfully as she went about her toilet, until she came to the point of shaving, something she had never done before. She had to concentrate hard, so as not to nick her pussy-lips, but found herself getting aroused as she made sure that every last remains of hair was gone from her whole pubic area. When she had finished, and oiled herself thoroughly, she decided she loved the smooth feel of it, and wondered why she hadn't done it before. She took care with her make-up, applying just enough, then brushed her long dark hair to a silken sheen. Then she put on the shoes, and tried walking in them, up and down her lounge - they were a good deal higher than she was used to, but she felt sexy in them - good.

It was time to put on the dress. She put it over her head and wriggled her arms into the tight sleeves, which ended in loops for her middle fingers. Then she wriggled the fine silk down over her breasts, and pulled it down over her hips, letting it fall with a gentle swish down to the floor. She smoothed it down around her body and felt the delightful sensation of the cool silk against her shaven pubes. She walked to the full-length mirror in her passageway, and admired her image. Her nipples could not have shown more clearly had she been naked, and, when she turned and looked over her shoulder, the outline of her rounded buttocks was all-too obvious. The skirt was pencil-slim, so that she was only able to take tiny steps when she walked, and the outline of her long legs showed clearly that she wore no panties.

The doorbell rang, and a uniformed man asked her to follow him, then helped her into the back seat of a large black Mercedes. 

Ten minutes later, she walked self-consciously into a restaurant, in the most exclusive part of town. The lighting was not very bright, but she had the impression that other diners stopped what they were doing to watch her as she was shown to John's table.

He rose to greet her, and complimented her on her appearance, asking her if she had followed all his instructions.

'Of course,' she said.

'Good,' he replied, 'But now I have something else for you. I want you to put this in your cunt.' With that he handed her an egg-shaped device, with a string attached to one end.

She didn't know whether she was most shocked by the suggestion, or by his sudden use of the forbidden word, which she had never heard her husband use, but something made her take the egg from his hand.

'Now,' he said.

She looked around her in panic.

'Nobody is looking. Do it.' It was an order, and she knew she should obey. 

It was no easy matter to pull up her tight skirt under the table cloth, as surreptitiously as possible, and a her eyes widened as she pushed the big egg into her vaginal orifice. An involuntary, 'Oooh' escaped her lips.

'Good,' he said, 'Pull your skirt back down.'

Later, after they had ordered, and were waiting for the first course, he reached into his pocket, and she heard a little click. Immediately, a sensation of rippling pleasure ran right through her inner core, and it was all she could do not to cry out. Thankfully, he turned the remote off again after a few seconds, but she then remonstrated with him for not telling her that the egg was remote-controlled. He smiled, 'You will learn many things, Gwen, if, after tonight, you consent to be trained.'

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, but she was ever conscious of the egg in her vagina, and the waiter leered at her nipples every time he served their table, once even brushing his arm against her breast as he collected a plate. John appeared to enjoy the attention, saying, 'He'd love to fuck you, just look at the way he looked at you.'

After the meal, John helped her from the table in a very gentlemanly fashion, and the chauffeur was awaiting them in the foyer. When they got into the back of the car the driver started and drove off slowly. John turned to Gwen, and took her in his arms.

'You did well, Gwen,' he said, then kissed her hard. She responded fiercely, probing with her tongue, while he pulled hard at one of her nipples through the thin silk of her dress. It hardened to his touch, and she felt his cock harden against her leg at the same time. She was on fire, and when he pulled down his zipper to release his eager cock, she leaned down to take his length deep into her mouth, helping him pump with all his might until he came with great shuddering spurts, deep into her throat.

He had not forgotten her either, and turned on the remote one last time as he was in the throes of orgasm, so that Gwen could abandon herself to the joys of the 'egg.' But it was no substitute for the real thing, and she knew she was going to have to wait for that now.

Later, she took the device out of her vagina, and gave it back to him.

The driver had neither spoken nor looked back throughout the whole episode. Now he stopped outside Gwen's apartment block.

John got out, walked around and opened her door. Helping her out of the car, he said, 'Gwen, you have given me great pleasure this evening. If you do not wish to see me again, I shall understand, however. But if you now wish to be trained, and move to a new level with me, now is the time to say so.'

'Oh, yes,' she heard herself saying.

'Then I will be in touch tomorrow. Go now, and sleep well.'

He made no attempt to ask himself in for a coffee, or any other ploy to spend the night with her, she noted. This was a man who did not resort to ploys. She went, and slept.

Next morning, Sunday, Gwen pottered about the house, in tee-shirt and jeans, still bemused by what had happened the night before. How could she have worn such a dress? And given head to a complete stranger? And inserted the 'egg?'

At around midday, a messenger arrived, with a big suitcase and an envelope. On the envelope was written the message: Read before opening suitcase.

She opened the envelope, and there was a longish letter inside. She read it.

Dearest Gwen,

As you have consented to be trained, here are your instructions, and rules:-

1.Your body hair is to be clean-shaven at all times.

2.You are never to wear panties at any time.

3.If you wear a bra, it is to leave your nipples free and visible.

4.If you wear a garter belt it is to leave your buttocks clearly naked.

5.You will not wear trousers, or skirts too tight to be raised, unless I so decree.

6.When I wish to punish you, you will choose the instrument of punishment from a tray I keep in my home.

7.If I decide to have you marked in any way, you will assent accordingly.

8.If I decide that your anal orifice requires expansion, you will assist in making the necessary adjustments.

9.If, for the pleasure of myself and my colleagues, I wish to loan you to another for any period, you will readily consent.

10.I know it is fashionable in some circles for titles such as 'Master,' 'Sir,' and 'Slut' to be used. I prefer that we use our names, but our respective positions are clearly defined, and must remain so.

I trust those simple rules are clear to you. If at any time you wish to relinquish your position, you are free to do so, but I would hope and trust that our arrangement remains confidential. 

You will have realised that I have aspired to a position of some influence and wealth. I have accordingly arranged for your absence from your place of work for the next week, so that you may concentrate on the first phase of your training.

Now prepare yourself. If you open the suitcase, you will find on top a package containing all you need to wear. The remainder of the things will be needed during the week, together with other things we may purchase later.

Trimble will call for you at one.

She looked at her watch. It was already twelve-fifteen. She opened the suitcase, and took out a big plastic bag, opening it on the sofa. Again it contained clothes, but this time much more 'normal' looking ones - on the face of it. She took the package through to the bedroom, and stripped off her jeans and tee-shirt, looking at her slim body in the mirror, and wondering at the 'new-look Gwen,' divested of pubic hair - she looked so wanton, yet strangely young and innocent, she thought.

Taking the clothes from the package, she found and put on a dark blue satin garter belt and matching blue-toned lace-top nylons. Also matching was a half-bra, which pushed up her smallish breasts so that her long nipples pointed slightly upwards. Then she put on the completely transparent blue organdie blouse, and stepped into a simple pleated royal blue cotton miniskirt, which came to mid-thigh, just covering her stocking-tops. She completed the outfit with a pair of outrageously high platform-soled, needle-heeled, patent leather shoes, which she really was going to have to get used to, but then found, nestling in the bottom of the package, a small bag, which contained something hard and cylindrical. When she took it out, she knew at once what it was - a butt-plug. She had never been taken in the arse in her life, and didn't think there was any way she could force this thing, which looked so huge, into the tiny, puckered opening, even if she used the tube of lubricant that came with it. She also didn't think that, if once she got it up there, it could be persuaded to stay in, while she walked. She decided to leave it out for the time being.

Dead on one o'clock, the door bell sounded, and the chauffeur, Trimble, was waiting for her. She let him open the car door for her, thinking how she could get used to being pampered by servants!

Soon the car drew up outside a big, secluded mansion, and she was shown up a wide staircase and into a tiled hallway, where a very pretty young girl - she can have been no more than eighteen - dressed in a black silk minidress, took her by the elbow, and directed her to a palatial dining room, where a table was set for two. John was awaiting her, standing beside the table, with a slight smile on his face. He was wearing a red silk dressing gown. He motioned her to a place at the table, and they ate a light lunch, talking about nothing in particular.

When they had finished, his mood suddenly seemed to change.

'Have you done as I requested?' he demanded.

She remembered the butt-plug. 'Well, more or less,' she said.

'More - or less?' He wasn't smiling now.

She wanted to tell him about the plug, but didn't want to incur his anger.

'Stand up,' he said, more gently, and she did as she was told. He ran his hand immediately between her legs, and thrust two fingers straight into her cunt, using them to pull her towards him, while his eyes never left hers. Then he let his hand stray up towards her anus, and probe into her rectum.

'I see,' he said, sternly, 'The first day, and already you disobey me, Gwen.' He released her, and stood beside her, then took her hand.

'Come, you must be punished.'

Gwen was terrified as he led her through a door and out into a passageway, then into a room that looked like a library.

'Wait ,' he commanded, and released her hand while he reached a tray down from a shelf behind the door. He placed the tray on a coffee table. It contained an assortment of whips, canes and floggers.

'You will normally have the choice as to your instrument of pain and pleasure. Today is your first time, so I shall choose for you.' After a moment's deliberation, he picked up a riding crop.

He led her to a small sofa, and made her bend over the back so that her head was on the seat, her long hair spreading down to the floor. Then he lifted her skirt so that her buttocks were presented, framed by the satin garter belt. He ran the crop through her slit, then felt with his fingers.

'You're wet through,' he said, 'This excites you, doesn't it?'

She didn't know how to reply, but he insisted, 'Do you want me to whip you?'

'Oh yes,' she said, weakly.

She heard a swish as the crop flew through the air, then a terrible stinging sensation as it rained down on her tender skin. She cried out.

'You have five more,' he said, 'Can you take that?'

'Yes,' she replied.

When he had finished six red lines criss-crossed her lovely buttocks. He hadn't really whipped her hard, and she knew that no harm was done, but she had had the most tremendous orgasm when she was being whipped, and knew that this lifestyle was for her. 

But he wasn't satisfied. John was determined that Gwen would have a butt-plug fitted, there and then. She hadn't brought the offending instrument with her, and he seemed to have anticipated this, for he produced an identical one from his pocket, and immediately started to lube her arsehole, gently easing the cream into her tight hole, first with one finger, then, tentatively, with two. She gasped as he pushed harder, forcing them past her anal sphincter, but the pain eased slightly, then he withdrew his fingers and she felt the tip of the cold hard plug being slowly pushed into place, widening her resistant virgin anus little-by-little. Tears sprang to her eyes, as the brutal instrument was finally rammed in right up to its rim, and she cried out sharply. He slapped her smartly across her buttock as she yelled.

'Quiet,' he said, simply. Then he pulled her to her feet, and let her smooth her skirt down.

'Walk around a bit, and get used to it. It should stay in place OK now. Tomorrow, we'll have another look.'

She walked gingerly around the parquet floor, heels clicking loudly in the high-ceilinged silence of the library. He made no move to comfort her after her whipping, or show any sort of warmth, and she felt suddenly alone in her predicament when he abruptly left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. 

But what must have been about ten minutes later he was back, this time with the young girl who had met her in the hallway.

'This is Tania,' he said, gently pushing the other towards her, 'She will now show you to your room, and make certain that you have everything you require.'

'But you sent a suitcase full of things to my apartment...' began Gwen.

'Surely you didn't think you would be going back there tonight. Unless, of course, you want to?'

'No,...I...'

'The suitcase contains clothing you will need when the first phase of your training is over, and you are ready to live at home again. I sent it because I didn't want to alarm you by telling you that you were coming here for a week. Not right away, anyway.'

Gwen looked at him doubtfully, but he had already turned away, and was whispering instructions to Tania, who was listening intently. As he talked to her, he idly stroked her thigh below the black minidress, and Gwen felt a pang of jealousy. Tania was very beautiful, slim and long-legged with short blonde hair cut in a pageboy style. Like Gwen, she wore very high heels, and Gwen wondered if she too had undergone 'training.'

Moments later John patted Tania on the rear, and the young girl bade Gwen follow her. She was acutely conscious of the butt-plug as she walked the long corridor behind the girl's swaying backside. They stopped at a door which wasn't locked, and Tania ushered her inside.

There was a double bed, but what most impressed itself upon Gwen's attention was the fact that one wall was completely mirrored. At second glance it turned out to be one enormous wardrobe, with mirrored sliding doors. Another wall held drawers and cupboards, and the only other wall which did not contain a window looking out across a formal garden had ominous-looking rings set into it above head-height. It took little imagination for Gwen to guess their purpose. But Tania was friendly enough, even if she did not appear to wish to be engaged in conversation, and showed her, with something approaching pride, the wardrobes and their contents. For they seemed to contain the most wonderful array of dresses, for evening and day wear that Gwen had ever seen. Below them was a row of shoes, all high heeled, and when she peeped in the drawers, she saw that they contained gorgeous underwear and nightdresses, the like of which she had only ever dreamed. But of panties, of course, there were none to be seen.


Gwen: Bound for a New Life Ch. 02



Gwen had settled into her new life at John's fine house, helping with young Tania's training, better than she would have thought possible. On John's frequent absences, she took Tania into her bed, so that her life was seldom without passion. After her first mild taste of punishment with the flogger, Tania craved more, and when John went away for two days, she asked Gwen if she would whip her as she had seen Gwen herself whipped. Gwen was reluctant at first, but when the pretty blonde begged her, she relented.

'Go and dress appropriately, then,' she said, 'you know what I mean.'

Gwen awaited her in the library. She was dressed in a short flared skirt and white blouse, with seamed nylons and high heels, and thought to herself that John would have been disappointed in her – she hadn't dressed the part, as a dominatrix, or anything dramatic like that – but this was strictly between herself and Tania, she decided.

But when Tania came in, she had observed 'house rules' and followed John's ritual requirements. She was clad in a long, fine, translucent silk, lace-edged negligee, fastened at the waist by a braided cord. Her pointed, firm breasts jutted proudly at the thin silk, and she had shackled her own long slender legs with a foot of silver chain, clipped to the rings in two silver ankle restraints. She wore white stiletto mules.

'I'm proud of you, Tania,' said Gwen, 'you're getting a grasp of ritual, I see.'

She stepped up and stripped off the negligee, and then crouched down and unclipped the chain from her ankle restraints. On the way back up, she lingered in the young girl's pussy, letting her hand delve between the puffy lips and feel the wetness within.

'Really ready?' she asked her, and Tania nodded.

'That isn't enough, darling,' said Gwen, 'you must ask me.'

'Oh, Gwen,' she said, breathily, 'please hurt me. I want you to.'

Gwen led her to the wooden St Andrew's cross set into the wall, and clipped her ankle restraints to the snap-links provided, and then fetched two similar restraints for her wrists, which she found on a shelf. These she placed on Tania's slim wrists and clipped them to their corresponding links on the cross. The slim blonde was now spreadeagled, facing the wall, and utterly vulnerable. 

'What would you like me to use?' asked Gwen, following John's protocol.

'I don't know,' she replied, now breathing heavily, 'I just want you to hurt me, Gwen, and I trust you, my love.'

Gwen made the decision for her and took up the riding crop, which she knew would hurt her terribly, but give no lasting damage, only mark her prettily.

She stood back and took aim and, 'Thwack!' 

'Oh' escaped her lips as the blow fell across her shoulder-blades.

The crop swished louder as Gwen warmed to the task – 'THWACK!' 

'Ooh' came her moan as another stroke fell on her upper back, causing a red line to show and Tania writhed in agony.

Gwen lowered her aim and intensified her stroke, with a 'Crack!' as she lashed her across the middle of her back, bringing up a red welt.

'OOaah!' she cried, and she bucked against her tight bonds.

Gwen decided to check her young companion's cunt, and ran a hand through her slit. It was soaking. Abandoning her task for a moment, she knelt and inserted her tongue into the wet slit, first flicking the erect clitoris with her tongue-stud, then lapping the length of the sweet crack, drinking all Tania's juices greedily.

'You have cum, you little slut,' she said, and took up the crop again.

'I'm sorry, Gwen,' said Tania, then screamed as a fierce, stinging lash struck her across the top of her buttocks.

'Can you take four more?' asked Gwen, and Tania nodded dumbly.

'Is that yes?' demanded Gwen.

'Yes,' she murmured, and the older woman carried on, whipping her in a criss-cross pattern on the arse and upper thighs.

When she unclipped her, Tania fell into her arms.

Tenderly, Gwen carried her the short distance to the overstuffed sofa, and laid her down, then went to fetch the bottle of soothing oil John ensured was always kept handy. She spent half an hour anointing the blonde's delicate skin with the oil, easing it into the welts and stripes she herself was responsible for. Tania sighed and almost purred at Gwen's soft touch, and when she touched her sex, she was again getting moist. But it was with her own pussy that Gwen was now concerned. All the time she had been punishing Tania, she had been getting more and more excited, and now, sitting close to her, stroking her lovely young flesh, and feeling her body move under her touch, was almost more than Gwen could bear. She knew she had to have release, and suddenly, without warning, pulled the girl's short blonde hair roughly towards her centre, opening herself up to her brusquely, and thrusting Tania's head hard between her legs.

Tania knew her role, and, making an 'O' with her long tongue, she reached far into Gwen's wet cunt-hole. It was as if she couldn't reach far enough, and strove to get to Gwen's very inner soul, pulling at her arse with both hands as she pushed her tongue in and out of her vagina, slurping noisily. A finger found its way up Gwen's anus and Gwen came in that moment, a long-awaited, shuddering, heaving climax.

They lay sated, Tania sore and happy, Gwen proud and happy.

The next day passed uneventfully, Gwen taking Tania shopping, and having lunch in a nearby Commercial Centre, where the two of them turned a few heads – and enjoyed doing so.

That night, Gwen elected to sleep alone, as she knew John may come home at any time, and she didn't want him to find her in bed with Tania, though she didn't think he'd mind. Anyway, she was tired, so she had brushed out her long hair to a silken sheen, slipped on a favourite long silk nightgown, and went to bed.

She was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of the downstairs door closing. She was instantly awake, and wiped the sleep from her eyes, knowing that John was home. She also knew he wouldn't want to wake her, and would go to his own, adjoining, room next door. She waited impatiently until she heard the bath run, then the slight splash as he lowered himself in to the huge, four-person tub.                                                     

She quietly slid out of bed, and crept soundlessly into the bathroom. He half-turned as she came in, and a smile came to his handsome face. She lifted the hem of her heavy silk gown far enough to step over into the bath, then lowered herself into the water, the wet silk sensuously moulded to her body, straddling his legs, her breasts now completely visible through the soaked gown, nipples straining and hard with the passion of her pent-up need for her Master. He too was more than ready for her, and his cock was as hard as a ramrod, as she lowered herself directly onto it, letting go a harsh gasp as she took his entire length within her in one great thrust.

'Oh, my,' she said, 'you've missed me, John.'

He bit her nipples through the wet silk of her gown, and she writhed on his rampant pole, then rode him, splashing water wildly, so that some ran clear out of the bath and onto the floor. He groaned as she thrashed up and down and squirmed from side to side, all in the same movement, then could keep himself in check no longer, and came in one massive heave, deep into her, simultaneously with her own onrushing climax.

'God,' she said, 'I've waited for that.'

'Have you been good?' he asked, sternly, when they had dried each other and were curled up in his bed.

'Well............er, yes,' she replied, uncertainly.

'Come on,' he said, 'what have you been up to?'

'I whipped Tania,' she confessed, looking sheepish, then explained, 'she begged me to.'

'I think I shall have to punish you for that,' he said.

'Mmmm,' she replied, 'yes please.'

'Tomorrow, Pet,' he said, 'and I may have a surprise for you too. Now you must sleep.'

They got up late. He was first out of bed, and stood naked, looking down at her, then pulled her without warning into wakefulness, and, dragging her out of bed, he pushed her into a kneeling position against the side of the bed.

From the wardrobe he took his favourite thin cane, and lashed her brutally about the back and buttocks, raising lurid red stripes, and hurting her terribly. 

'Oh, thank you, John,' she said, when he had finished, 'how I have missed that. I want so badly to have you inside me now.'

He lifted her onto the bed, as if in answer, and told her to masturbate for him, while he watched her closely, and she obediently threw wide her legs and massaged her burgeoning clitoris as her juices oozed from her sopping cunt. As he watched her, pre-cum was dripping from the end of his cock, and he nudged it against her face, letting her lick him clean, but she wasn't satisfied with that, and hungrily swallowed up his whole rigid length between her lips, and sucked greedily as her fingers went right into her pussy to their very limit. He thrust his cock deep into her throat and came convulsively, staying in her mouth so that she could swallow every drop.

Later, he oiled her body where it was at its most sore, then helped her choose a soft dress which would not rasp against the wounds during the day. After treating her so cruelly, he was at his most solicitous.

Later, at breakfast, he told Gwen what he had planned for the rest of the day. They were to lunch with a pair of influential friends, who owned a 'Gothic Club' in the city. They apparently wanted new blood for their 'medieval show, which involved a lot of BDSM, he said.

'Not me!' exclaimed Gwen.

'No, Pet, though I think you'd do very well. No, I plan to loan them Tania – she's fresh, and new, and beautiful, and she craves punishment. What do you think?'

Gwen said she thought it sounded interesting, but she wanted to hear what Tania said.

'I've asked her already,' he said, 'and she is very keen. And there's something else. Lawrence is going to send me his girl for a month as a compensation – but she is a difficult one, evidently.' He grinned at the last bit.

They met Lawrence and his wife Janet for lunch in a very up-market restaurant in the city. Lawrence was older than John and looked like an ex-boxer or prize-fighter, gone slightly to seed, with a once-broken nose and a rugged face, topped with a mane of greying hair. He wore a grey Armani jacket and black jeans. Janet was much younger, and could have been a fashion model, with long slender legs, encased in shiny nylon. She wore a backless silk jersey dress, mid-thigh length, and heels. Her hair was dark blonde, with highlights, and, between that and her make-up, Gwen would have put a sizeable bet on her spending at least three hours a day in the parlour.

After a long lunch, and an even longer discussion over coffee, the deal was done, and it was arranged that Tania would be brought to the Gothic Club that night, where she would be the star of the show. When Gwen pointed out that she had no theatrical experience, she was told scornfully that that was the point.

After John received more instructions from Janet, who seemed now to have taken over control of the proceedings, we broke up and went home to relax, before preparing for the evening.

'Get a bit of rest, Pet,' said John, 'I've a feeling it could be a heavy night.'

At about seven, when Gwen had rested quietly for a couple of hours or so, John fetched her a coffee, and said, 'Have this, then let's go and get Tania moving.'

She drank her coffee, slipped on a robe, and went to Tania's room. She was nervously pacing the floor, and she told her to sit down for a moment, taking her slim hand in hers, and patting her knee. 

'Don't worry, darling,' Gwen said, 'you know this is what you want.'

'Yes,' she replied, 'but I've never been whipped in front of an audience, and I don't know what I shall feel like.'

'Come on,' said Gwen, to allay her nerves, 'let's get you checked out.' 

Gwen had her slip off her robe, and turned her this way and that, then laid her down on the bed, and ran her hands over her mound and all around her lovely young pussy, ostensibly checking to see that she had no vestiges of pubic hair, but also enjoying herself, and making her moist into the bargain. Gwen kissed her then, and told her she was to dress in a simple skirt and blouse, as clothes, such as she would require, would be provided on arrival at the Gothic Club. She told her, though, to make up with care, and gave her instructions as to what was required. With that, Gwen left her, and went back to her room.

John told her that it was an evening 'for dressing up' – so she chose a white silk halter-neck dress, completely open at the back, right down to the start of her buttock-cleavage, and the sides of which scarcely covered her breasts, so that if she leaned forwards, they could be seen in their entirety. She put her hair up and wore a pair of long silver ear-rings. A pair of very high metallic-heeled stilettos completed her clothing, as she wore, as usual, no underwear.

'How do I look?' she asked John.

'There will be no man there who will not want to fuck you,' he said, for a reply, and he looked pretty good himself, dressed in a lightweight fawn suit, blue button-down shirt, and striped tie. 

Tania was waiting for them by the car when they got there, still nervous, but smiling nonetheless, and looking very young in a tartan miniskirt and cotton blouse which would have passed for school uniform until you took in Tania's long, slender legs and five inch heels. 

Before they got in the car, John wanted to be sure that Tania's make-up was in order, and told her to step into the porch, under the lights, so that he could inspect her. He looked at her heavier-than-usual eye make-up, and grunted his approval, then told her to unbutton her blouse, and was similarly appreciative of her rouged nipples.

The Gothic Club was ten minutes' drive away, and when they got there, Gwen was impressed by the security arrangements – it would have been impossible for a non-member to have got through the gates and past the armed guards who appeared from discreet cabins whenever a car approached. When they parked, the array of parked cars was also very impressive, with Mercedes, Lexus, Aston Martins and even a Ferrari on show. 

John and Gwen presented a very attractive picture as they walked up the steps, leading the submissive Tania, who, though slightly taller than Gwen, walked obediently slightly behind them, blonde head bowed.

When they entered, Janet was waiting for them, and John did a double-take as he saw her. She was dressed in a long tube-like fishnet dress, which encased her completely, but through the mesh of which protruded her nipples, at the tips of small, firm, breasts. Apart from a waist-chain, she was quite naked beneath the dress, and a prominent tattoo could clearly be seen, a serpent making its way towards her shaven pussy.

'Hello' she said, unselfconsciously, 'and this is the lovely Tania, eh? By the way, Gwen, I love your stripes.' Gwen had quite forgotten that her dress made her welts so very obvious and started when Janet mentioned them, but had no time to reply as Janet now took Tania by the hand, and whisked her away. She could only take small steps herself, due to the tightness of her skirt about her ankles. As she minced away, her round buttocks worked a liquid little dance under the fishnet.

'Phew,' said John, 'some dress!'

Gwen could hardly disagree.

A girl dressed as a maid materialised and beckoned to them to follow her. They went down a short corridor, and soon found themselves in a roomy auditorium, where perhaps thirty other couples were already installed, seated on comfortable sofas, each with a low table, with a plentiful supply of drinks in evidence.

When they were seated, near the front, another maid attended them, and took their drinks order. When she did the same at the adjacent table, Gwen noticed that the girl wore nothing under her short skirt, something she made no attempt to hide. John seemed unsurprised when she mentioned it.

After perhaps fifteen minutes, during which they were served with their gin and tonics, and listened to pleasant enough music, the red velvet curtains on the stage opened, and the lights in the auditorium went down.

A spotlight shone up a spot at the rear of the stage, and something like a Gregorian chant started up, creating an atmosphere of mystery and evil. Then two huge hooded figures, completely enveloped in black robes, walked slowly on stage, into the spot, flanking the slight blonde form of Tania, now wearing a long white, rough canvas dress, with voluminous sleeves, tied at the waist with a tasselled rope. Her wrists were cuffed together in front of her in metal handcuffs and she shuffled along awkwardly, ankles shackled with a chain which she dragged behind her. 

She was ordered to stop in the centre of the stage, and another black-robed figure, smaller than the first two, appeared from the wings. This figure stooped and unfastened the chain between the blonde's ankles, and carried it to the side of the stage, leaving metal ankle-cuffs in place. The handcuffs were then similarly detached, again leaving metal cuffs in place on Tania's wrists. 

The music now changed, became, if anything, more subtly menacing, and if the look on Tania's pretty face owed anything to acting talent, she was in line for an Oscar, as she looked quite terrified. The third black-robed figure now removed the cord from Tania's waist, and undid the two buttons which fastened her dress at the back. Tania stood motionless as the dress was pulled down, off her shoulders, and fell to the floor at her feet. The audience let out a collective gasp as her youthful figure was revealed in all its graceful beauty. 

Now the first two hooded figures took over and, one each side of Tania, took her by the wrists and, as the music swelled, two heavy chains descended from the darkness above. They clipped her wrist-cuffs to these chains, and waited while the tension was taken up by the unseen machinery above, pulling the blonde's arms up above her head and apart from her shoulders. Then they switched their attention to her ankles, which they attached to two ringbolts conveniently-placed in the floor, so that she was held firmly, facing the audience, in a star position. 

The audience was now getting excited, and a buzz was starting, which competed with the growing strains of the threatening music, as the third, much smaller hooded figure stepped to the front of the stage. With a flourish, the figure divested itself of its robe and revealed the magnificent form of – Janet! Now clad in a black corset, which cinched her already tiny waist and thrust her naked breasts proudly skywards, and thigh-high, spike-heeled boots – and nothing else, and carrying a monstrous whip in her right hand. 

'Whip her – yes!' chanted some members of the audience, 'lash the bitch,' and similar calls, and, glancing around, Gwen saw that some of the audience were engaged in a variety of embraces – one woman nearby was on her knees with her partner's cock in her mouth, whilst another couple were masturbating individually, and watching each other intently.

She tore herself away from the audience to watch her young friend's fate, and the spotlight picked up Tania's wide-eyed fright as Janet stepped up with her huge stock-whip, cracking it as if she had practised the knack for years. 

Suddenly, the music stopped, and Janet walked up to Tania, and, with her free hand, grasped her pussy.

'You're wet through, bitch, SLUT!' she yelled, for the audience's benefit.

Then she stood back and sent the whip snaking expertly across the stage, to land neatly around Tania's slender white thighs, causing her to writhe in her bonds and yelp, though how much of the cry was acting, how much was fear, and how much was real pain, was impossible to tell. 




Gwen: Bound for a New Life Ch. 02



The audience made a collective, animal, growl, as the whip struck, and Gwen couldn't resist another look around. The closest couple to them, the only ones she could now see well in the gloom of the auditorium, were fucking. She was astride him, her skirt around her waist, but her head was turned, so that she could watch the proceedings on stage, as did he, over her shoulder.

Again the great whip was drawn back and sent flashing back towards the young blonde's defenceless, bound, form, and Tania screamed and pulled wildly against her bonds as the tip of the lash wrapped itself around her lower back. A long red wheal was visible in the spotlight as the whip was withdrawn.

Three times more Janet wielded the merciless instrument on Tania's slender body, each time raising another red mark, which the spot picked out for the audience's benefit, then, quite suddenly, the music started again, and the two larger hooded figures reappeared from the wings. Immediately, massive erections sprang from gaps in their robes, and preceded them as they walked towards the captive Tania and her torturer, Janet.

One of them unclipped Tania, and helped her down on to the floor of the stage, where he placed her arse on a cushion, her legs towards the audience. The other grabbed Janet, dispossessing her roughly of the whip, and placed her on the floor alongside Tania, on another cushion, again with her legs towards the auditorium. They both then had their legs brusquely thrust wide apart, and the spotlight played harshly upon their two glistening, wet, shaven pussies.

Both women knew their role, and parted their labia with their fingers, showing the audience their yawning cunts. Then the two hooded men fell upon them and impaled both, without preliminaries, with their mighty organs, and the audience now cheered as the two women were comprehensively fucked – as were a considerable number of spectators. Amazingly, the music stopped, and, simultaneously, they withdrew, and came, explosively, splattering the breasts and faces of their two victims with ample jets of creamy spunk.

'Some show,' said Gwen, and John nodded, although he'd seen it all before.

Afterwards, they went backstage to talk to Janet and Lawrence, and see how Tania had fared. She was, in fact in ebullient mood, and eager to continue with the shows, when they asked her if she was prepared to do so. Gwen asked her if the whip hurt, and she replied that it wasn't as bad as it looked, 'but very exciting, in front of all those people.'

Lawrence said, 'OK, John, I suppose we'd better introduce you to our part of the bargain. She's in the television room, waiting for you.'

They all trooped off down a long corridor, and into a carpeted room at the end. A dark-complexioned girl was sat watching a news programme on a large-screen television.

'This is Laya,' said Lawrence, and the girl looked briefly away from her news programme, and up at them, showing almost no interest at all, a sullen look on her oval, Asian features.

'Laya,' he said, 'these good folks have come to take you with them. You are to live with them for a time, and do as they say.'

She nodded, her face an unhappy mixture of sadness and bitterness. 

'Come on then, Laya,' said Gwen, and held out a hand to her, which she rejected, and stood, hands on hips, as they took their leave of Lawrence and Janet, then followed them meekly down the corridor and out to John's car. She said not a word on the way home, and remained quite uncommunicative when Gwen showed her to her room, a pleasant enough one beside that of Tania, who had already retired, exhausted after her evening's exertions.

Next morning, Gwen went with Tania to talk to the newcomer, and they found her still in bed, at almost ten o'clock. Gwen wore a halter top with her miniskirt, and Tania was in a very short sundress, so both of them exhibited quite clear signs of their recent punishment as they sat on the Asian girl's bed. For the first time, she showed signs of animation, and her eyes widened when she saw their red welts.

'Nobody's going to do that to me,' she said, defiantly, without preamble.

'But they only do to us what we want – and enjoy,' said Gwen, 'it's a life you may not yet understand, Laya, but it's our life, here, and it's full of love and passion.'

The girl looked lost, but still antagonistic, her large black eyes shining as she looked from Gwen to Tania and back again. She brought out a protective urge in Gwen, sat there in her demure cotton nightdress, her long black hair a shining mane falling to the pillow. For the first time she noticed a tiny diamond stud at the side of her nose, and touched it gently, causing Laya to flinch.

'How pretty,' she remarked, 'I might have one done myself.'

Laya managed the faintest of smiles at that, but returned to her sullen attitude when Gwen suggested that Tania help her dress, and that she make sure she had everything she needed. Still, Gwen thought, it might well be no bad idea to leave the two youngsters to get to know one another, and she left with a cheery wave.

Gwen was having a late breakfast with John when Tania came down, half an hour later.

'She'll be OK,' announced the blonde youngster, 'she was sold to Lawrence by her father, when she was on the point of running away with her boyfriend, in her village. The problem is, she's still a virgin, and feels uncomfortable about it.'

'Then we've got to help her,' said John, looking thoughtful.

Just then, Laya poked her nervous head around the door, her extravagantly long jet-black hair reaching down almost to the hem of the short, flared skirt Tania had found for her. She wore a simple black silk blouse, and her slim, dark-skinned legs were bare. Tania had insisted on four-inch heels, and she walked awkwardly, obviously unused to their height, but she looked transformed, and John whistled softly as she came and sat down to await breakfast.

'Why, you're lovely, Laya,' he said.

'I was forced to dress as a maid at.....at that other place,' she said, disdainfully.

'Well you won't be forced to do anything here, Laya,' said John, 'we are going to try and help you enjoy life. I want you to learn from Gwen and Tania.'

'But....but, I don't want to be whipped like them.'

'For now, you must just learn from them, my dear. First, they will teach you some things about our code of dress. Go now, and start to enjoy your new home.' With those words, John rose and abruptly left the room. Tania and Gwen went into a huddle and decided that Tania was better qualified to start Laya's educational process, and they then discussed how she should go about it.

Gwen took the lead and told Tania what she thought should be the set of rules by which Laya should be made to abide, in terms of her mode of dress. Not wishing to be too strict with her, after what the young girl had said about her last home, they decided to be gentle with her. 

When Tania was alone with Laya, she showed her the wardrobe, with its array of lovely clothes, in her new room, and the Asian girl cheered up instantly.

'Can I really wear those things?' she asked.

'Yes, dear,' said Tania, 'but you will find no panties in the drawers. We don't wear them here.'

Laya looked questioningly at the blonde, but said nothing, and made no protest when Tania unbuttoned her blouse, unhooked her bra, and helped her out of her skirt and panties.

She then looked the youngster over approvingly, and said, 'You're lovely, you know, Laya – far too good to be a maid. But we'll have to do something about that bush.' She tapped lightly at the girl's luxuriant, black, curly pubic entanglement. 'Come on,' she said, 'that's got to go.'

Laya started to protest, but Tania merely raised her own short skirt, revealing her silky smooth naked mound, which she ran a hand over suggestively, then took Laya's hand and placed it firmly there, causing the girl's eyes to widen like saucers. But it was almost as if Tania's naked mound had wrought a change in Laya's mind, and the withdrawal of her hand was slower than seemed likely.

'Bu....but ...I don't know,' said Laya, looking confused, not at all the defiant girl of a while ago.

Tania led her to the bathroom, naked and compliant, and lathered her thoroughly, then carefully shaved her until every vestige of hair was gone. She ran her hands repeatedly over her newly bare skin in silent wonderment.

Although it was only lunchtime, Tania decided that it was best to allow the new girl to wear the prettiest dress she could find, and together they selected a shimmering gold silk dress, backless, with a halter neck and calf-length skirt. She looked transformed when Tania helped her put her hair up, found her a pair of gold hoop ear-rings and some matching gold high heels.

'Wow,' chorused John and Gwen when Tania took her down to lunch, and Laya managed a nervous smile.

After lunch, John asked Gwen to fetch Laya to the library, where he wanted to talk to her, and explain a few things. Tania was going shopping.

John had taken his leave of them while they had coffee, so Gwen took Laya along to the library, and they found John awaiting them, sat in his favourite armchair.

'Sit down, please,' he said to Laya, and motioned to Gwen to come and sit on a cushion, on the floor at his feet, which she knew was her place. Laya sat in a straight-backed chair opposite, her young, firm breasts poking prettily at the thin silk of her dress.

'So, young lady,' he began, ' Tania has told you a little of our code of dress, I believe. If you are puzzled at all, it is largely for my pleasure, and that of my friends. I also believe it will ultimately be for your own pleasure – something I do not expect you to understand fully as yet. As your time here passes, you will be introduced to further rites. Because you are not yet twenty, and have had a difficult time, I believe, we shall do this gradually. Tomorrow, Gwen will fit you with a corset, and she may well introduce you to another item.'

Laya opened her mouth as if to speak, but a look from Gwen silenced her. John continued, 'Nothing that happens to you here will do you any harm. If at any time you wish to leave, you are free to do so. All you have to do is to say so. That is all – you should now go and have a restful afternoon.' They watched her as she stood up and left the room, and then John pulled Gwen up into a warm embrace.

The following day, Gwen went early to Laya's room and took with her a black satin corset like she herself was wearing. She waited while the Asian girl had finished showering, then, ignoring her attempts to cover herself with her hands, she grabbed her firmly and slipped the stiff, whaleboned garment about her slim body, buttoning it in place in the front, so that it thrust her small breasts up wards. She then spun her around and began lacing her tightly into the corset's constriction, causing a sharp 'Oh' to escape her lips.

'I can't breathe,' complained Laya.

'Yes you can,' said Gwen, 'you must learn to accept restraint.'

Lightly, and before Laya could protest, Gwen ran her hand over the young girl's clean-shaven sex. It was moist, and Laya turned to look at her with a question on her pretty face, but Gwen turned away, delving into her bag. 

She didn't want to simply tell her to open her legs, and knew she would have to treat the girl gently, so she sat down with her and put her arm around her, then kissed her, at first lightly on thee cheek, then full on the lips, finding after a while that Laya opened her lips hesitantly, then eventually felt her snake-like tongue dart into her own mouth in sudden response.

At that, she knew Laya was ready, and started to massage Laya's sex-lips, working her fingers gently into the damp pink depths off her cunt. When two fingers slipped in easily, and Laya eased her legs accommodatingly apart, Gwen said, 'You're not a virgin, Laya, then?'

'No,' she replied, 'there was a man in my village – that's why I was sold.'

Gwen continued to work her fingers around Laya's willing sex, finding her clitoris rising perkily from beneath its hood as she probed, then she reached for the 'egg' she had brought with her in her bag, and deftly slipped it into Laya's vagina, before she could protest, stretching her young channel to its limits. She kissed Laya as she did so, absorbing her gasp, between pain and pleasure, and clicked on the egg's remote control with her other hand as she did so. Laya jerked, her whole body convulsed with the vibration of the foreign body now deep within her, and cried out, pushing Gwen away and grasping at her own nipples as an orgasm closed in on her. Gwen sat back and watched her, not a little aroused herself, finding herself fingering her own sex as the Asian girl closed her eyes and let out a huge sigh, then lay back, fully spent, on the bed.

Over the next few days, Laya was allowed gradually to accustom herself to the routine of the house, and became very friendly with Tania in particular – they were about the same age. She enjoyed particularly wearing the beautiful clothes provided for her, not even minding the cruel restraint of the corset, and was now used to walking about with the 'egg' in place, which Gwen would occasionally put in motion when she least expected it – at mealtimes or during the evening. 

One afternoon, John told Gwen that he had arranged for two young friends to come to dinner. They were the sons of important men, he said, and he hoped Tania and Laya would treat them well. Gwen told Tania to make sure they were both dressed appropriately, and was pleased when she saw Laya in a long, diaphanous white cotton shift, tied loosely at the waist with a heavy gold chain. Her dark nipples thrust proudly at the thin material, and her lack of any underwear was completely apparent. Her feet were clad in high-heeled sandals, laced right up her calves.

Tania wore an intricate lace top, through which her breasts were entirely visible, atop a half-bra, which served as no more than a platform for them. Her nipples had obviously been rouged. Her skirt was a short, flared one of scarlet silk, which came down to the tops of her high-top black stockings, and revealed her white thighs as she walked delicately in her totteringly high metallic heels. Gwen herself had chosen a simple long halter-necked gown of black silk. She didn't think of herself as a protagonist that evening.

Gareth and Martin turned up as promised, and were two fit-looking young men in their early twenties. John welcomed them, introductions were made, and they all took their places around the table. Gwen had contracted a catering company for the occasion, and their staff served the meal, and then made themselves scarce.

They eventually retired with their coffees to the comfortable library, and took their places on the luxurious sofas, Tania and Laya with Gareth and Martin respectively, after John had whispered to them that they should, of course, be prepared to do anything the two men wished. Gwen sat on the arm of John's favourite chair, with his arm around her slim waist, as they both watched the scene unfold. 

Tania was wasting no time, they noticed, and already had Gareth's cock in her hand, as he had her blouse open and was sucking enthusiastically at her nipples. 

But Laya and Martin seemed more hesitant, and were kissing like teenagers on a first date, though Gwen saw that Martin's hand was creeping tentatively up to her firm breasts.

When she looked back at Tania, the blonde had moved, and was knelt on the floor in front of the sofa, holding her arse-cheeks wide apart with her hands, presenting her puckered anus lewdly to her guest. He stood, and then, kneeling behind her, impaled her brutally, without preliminaries, causing her to cry out in agony and ecstasy as he penetrated her, tearing her tender tissues.

Things happened suddenly at that. Laya had pushed Martin away when Gareth had stood up, and, watching, her eyes wide, she yelled, 'Nobody's doing that to me!' and tore off out of the room, leaving Martin gasping, his erection subsiding rapidly. Gwen started up to go after her, but John pulled her back, saying quietly, 'Let her go, she must be punished tomorrow. For now, perhaps you can help?' He smiled and got out of the chair, gently pushing her down in his place.

Tania was now howling in anguish as Gareth finally spent his seed deep within her bowels, then peeled away from her and sat on the floor beside her, looking completely drained.

Gwen knew her role now, and beckoning to the disgruntled Martin, slowly slid her silk skirt up her long, smooth legs, revealing more and more, until her shaven mound came into view, then, very deliberately, she hooked her legs over the arms of the chair one after the other, and let the fingers off one hand toy idly with the lips of her sex.

She looked at Martin from under hooded lids, and took just a slight sideways glance at John, who was lounging against the wall, an inscrutable smile on his lips.

That Martin's erection had recovered its former status was evident, and he lost no time in coming over to Gwen, and falling into her arms. She guided his young cock straight into her waiting cunt, deliberately gripping him with its muscular walls, so that he gasped with the sheer joy of it, but then she pushed him away before he had time to thrust into her, knowing he would want to experience what his friend had done to Tania.

She threw her legs out wider, and shifted her position enough that the head of his shaft was against her smaller hole, then she pulled him within her, sliding his whole length smoothly into the tight sheath of her velvet arsehole. 

'Ooooh,' she cried, as he penetrated her, and she knew again the ecstasy of having her anus fucked by a young, hard cock, as he came in hot spurts within her. She silently gave thanks to Laya.

Next morning, John sent Gwen and Tania to fetch Laya for her punishment. They found her in bed, and Tania pulled her roughly from under the covers. She started to cry.

'That's enough of that,' said Gwen, 'there'll be time to cry when you are punished.'

'I don't want to be hurt,' she said.

For a reply, Tania tied her long hair up out of the way, then slipped the white negligee over her slender body, and tied the cord at her waist, then Gwen fitted metal hoops to her ankles and wrists, each with a snap-link. The girl was trembling uncontrollably when short lengths of chain were found to join her ankles together, as well as her wrists, behind her back. 

They made their way slowly to the library, Gwen and Tania, each dressed in simple black silk minidresses with black fishnet stockings and stilettos, flanking the manacled Laya in her negligee, shuffling along with difficulty, barefoot.

John awaited them in the library, with some stern words for Laya.

'You were told to do what the boys wanted last night. You disobeyed. That I will not tolerate. You must now be punished.'

She started to cry, but John nodded, and Gwen unfastened her chains, and stripped off her negligee, while Tania drew back the curtain, revealing the St Andrew's cross. Gwen quickly clipped the gibbering Laya to the cross, so that she was spreadeagled, her back to them.

John gave Gwen a riding crop, saying, 'You do it, Pet. But be careful with her buttocks – I'm sure you know why.' 

He said sternly to Laya, 'Count down from six!'

Gwen tested the long leather crop, then, without further ado, brought it swishing down onto Laya's olive-skinned upper back, 'THWACK.' 

'Ooooaargh,' she moaned, then, remembering, 'six!'

Harder, Gwen lashed her lower down her slim back, drawing a sobbing, 'five!' from her, then, working her way lower still, she whipped her just where her buttock-cleavage started, this time raising a red welt when she inspected the damage. Once more she thrashed the girl's buttocks, mindful of John's warning to go easy on that area, and saved the last two strokes for her thighs, which she knew were tender flesh, and which, sure enough, caused Laya to writhe and twist against her bonds as the cruel crop fell.




Gwen: Bound for a New Life Ch. 02



'Take her down,' said John, and Tania obliged, slipping her arms into her soft silk negligee, and helping her onto a sofa.

'Another time,' he said, 'you will remain silent whilst you are whipped, or there will be more strokes for you.'

'Another time?' she asked, between sobs.

'Yes, my dear,' he said,' I think you will come to know the whip.' 

John nodded to Gwen, and she knew instinctively what he wanted to know. She gently pushed Laya's legs apart, and, before she could protest, probed with a hand into her intimate area.

'Why, she's wet through,' she announced, and they saw that Laya, drying her tears with the hem of her negligee, wore an enigmatic expression.

'You hurt me,' she said, accusingly, but her mouth fell open and her breathing grew rapid as Gwen found her little nub with her forefinger, then she kissed her tenderly on the lips, darting her tongue in between the Asian girl's teeth, and feeling her ready response.

Sensing, though, what John had in mind for the girl, she drew back, and her master was at the other side of her on the sofa, armed with a tube of lube. Gwen deftly spread Laya's legs for him, and he smeared a liberal amount around her tiny arsehole.

'Oh no,' she cried.

'Oh yes,' said John, 'we don't want a repetition of last night's fiasco, do we?' 

He produced a small butt-plug from his pocket, and started to ease it with great care into Laya's anus, which he proclaimed as tight as any he had seen.

'Your arsehole will give great pleasure, my dear,' he said, 'to you and others. You will see.' 

As he spoke, he was easing the plug ever further inside, and Laya was grimacing with the pain, but soon a new sensation, one of intense pleasure, started to accompany the pain, as her sphincter was broached, and the plug became part of her, with an audible 'plop.' It had a ring in its end, and he fastened a short, thin, silver chain to it, then attached this in turn to a silver waist-chain.

'There,' he said, 'now you have a harness. It's going to be uncomfortable, I'm afraid, but it's only for a few days.'

Two days later, Laya came to Gwen's room unbidden, whilst Gwen was dressing for dinner. They were going out to dine with some special friends of John's, and Laya was already dressed in the same long, transparent cotton shift she had worn when the two men had paid them a visit a few days ago. She came in and sat on Gwen's bed. 

'Where are we going tonight?' she asked.

'To see some friends,' said Gwen.

'Are they...the same sort of friends?' she asked hesitantly.

Gwen laughed. 'All John's friends are the same sort,' she said, 'these want to borrow Tania.'

Laya pouted. 'I think I am as pretty as she is.'

'But you don't like to be whipped,' said Gwen.

'When you whipped me..........,' started Laya.

'Yes?'

'Nothing,' she said.

'You liked it, didn't you?'

She cast her eyes down, and fiddled with her hands in her lap.

'Didn't you, Laya?' insisted Gwen, 'it excited you. It doesn't hurt to admit it.'

'Mmmm.'

'What's that? I didn't hear you.'

'Yes,' she mumbled, indistinctly.

'Then say it, Laya.'

'I liked it.'

'You liked what?'

'I liked it when you whipped me – when you hurt me.'

'And do you want to be whipped again?'

'Oh yes.'

'Then ask. Go on.'

'I want to be whipped. I want you to hurt me.'

'Good.'

That night Tania was caned brutally by their hostess, a dark-haired woman in her fifties, while they watched, then ravaged by her husband, an overweight ex-boxer, who looked as if he may have a heart attack in the process. In the taxi on the way home, Laya squirmed against Gwen in a high state of excitement, and, when she preceded them up the steps to the house, John pointed out the wet patch at the seat of her dress. 

Gwen had told John of their earlier conversation, and John said, as they entered the house, 'Let's not make her wait any longer, then.'

Whilst Tania went to her room to recover from her exertions, Gwen took Laya by the wrist and steered her to the library. Laya looked around at her, her eyes wide, and they were even wider when Gwen took a hold on the neckline of her dress and tore the thin cotton from neck to hem in one vicious sweep.

Then she told the girl to bend over the back of the sofa, and, when she had done so, John stepped up, with his favourite long, thin can, with the leather handle.

He lashed her hard on her arse and upper thighs, with the terrible, stinging weapon, leaving red lines criss-crossing her lovely olive skin, and even drawing tiny droplets of blood in places. She made no more than a whimper while he meted out the punishment.

Gwen had seldom seen John so excited, and couldn't deny him. She hastened to part Laya's virgin arse-cheeks, her anus now prepared by days wearing the butt-plug, and massaged some lube into her hole so that John could thrust his throbbing length inexorably into her protesting arsehole. At first it seemed as if he'd never make it, but he wasn't in a mood to be denied, and ignored her screams of agony as he at last took her anal virginity. Her education was complete.



Gwen: Bound for a New Life Ch. 03



Nobody in this story is under 18, and neither should you be! It is a pure fantasy, following the other two stories about Gwen, which you should have read if you want this to make sense. I do not condone violence against women, or paedophilia, or any of that unpleasantness – the women in my stories are there because they choose to be – and I know that such women exist! 

Gwen couldn't help a feeling of relief as they dropped Laya off at Lawrence's sumptuous home, and an ebullient Tania hopped into the back seat to take her place. Laya's training had been entertaining, certainly, but she had missed the chirpy but passionate Tania, especially during John's absences, when Laya had been a poor substitute. 

Gwen also knew that her time with John may well be coming to an end, as her husband, Roger, was due back from the Middle East in a few days' time, and, although she loved John, and her extravagant lifestyle in his fine home, not forgetting with her relationship with Tania, she had always retained an old-fashioned loyalty to her husband. On the phone, she talked it over with her friend Julie.

'How can I advise you, darling?' she had said, 'you must do what you think best. Have you thought of trying to introduce some of our....er – practices - to Roger?' Julie, Gwen knew, was a willing 'slave' – Gavin used her much as John had used Gwen for the past several months, and she revelled in his whippings, begged for the humiliation.

'Well, no,' she replied, 'he has always been so fucking ordinary, you know, missionary position, and not a lot more.'

'Poor darling,' she said, 'but don't forget he's been to the Middle East. He may have changed.'

'You mean he may have learned how to shag sheep?'

'You can be so fucking crude, you know,' laughed Julie, 'but why not give it a try? You've got nothing to lose – if it doesn't work, go back to John!'

The conversation left Gwen with a lot to think about, and as the time for Roger's return approached, she got more and more nervous.

It happened that Roger's return coincided with one of John's brief foreign visits, so there was no emotional farewell, which Gwen knew John would prefer anyway. Before he went away, they had made love tenderly, and, in bed, he had told her to keep any of the clothes she wanted from the vast selection in her wardrobe. He also told her she could come back to him whenever she wanted, so long as she wasn't jealous of whoever else he may have installed meantime. At that, she beat her fists uselessly against his hard chest, and he turned her over, by way of reply, and fucked her brutally in the arsehole.

'That, you will miss, my dear!' he said.

'You don't know how much, John,' she told him, 'and many other things too!' 

The last night before Roger was due home, Gwen had already been over and aired the house, made everything fresh for his arrival, but she wanted to spend the last possible night with Tania, who had been more than a friend. She got back to John's mansion to find the young blonde crying, and took her in her arms.

'Oh, I'm going to miss you so much, Gwen,' she said, 'what will I do without you?'

'I'm sure you'll enjoy serving John all the more,' Gwen said, 'he thinks the world of you.'

'I know, but it's not the same,' she said, looking downcast, 'you know I need something more than just normal sex, of course?' She seemed reluctant to put a name to it, so Gwen did it for her.

'You need pain. I know, of course. You're not alone in that, are you? But John will be happy to supply it, I'm sure.'

'But Gwen,' she said, in a low voice, 'nobody can do it like you. Whip me one more time. Please!'

Gwen had been looking forward to taking the young blonde to her bed one last time, to burying her face in her luscious young pussy, having Tania's questing tongue probe the depths of her anus, but she had scarcely been prepared for the girl's plea. She could hardly deny her though, and said, 'Go and get ready, then!'

While Tania made herself ready, Gwen went to her room, slipped out of her dress and put on a black satin corset, stockings and heels, which she deemed set the right tone. She was pleased to see that Tania hadn't forgotten their ritual, and, when she arrived in the library, was dressed in the obligatory white negligee, and was barefoot, her ankles shackled and joined by a heavy chain, her wrists cuffed. As her hair was still fairly short, it wouldn't be in the way. 

Gwen pressed the button on the wall, and the chain buzzed its way down from the ceiling. She hooked Tania's wrists to the snap-link that hung there, and then tore the thin negligee from her body.

'You know I'm going to hurt you, Tania, don't you?' she said sternly.

'Oh yes!' said Tania, her eyes wide and full of longing. 

Gwen thrust her hand into Tania's slit. It was soaking, her lips puffy and distended.

'I'll warm you up with the paddle first,' she said, and took up a thin leather paddle, which made a satisfying swoosh through the air and fell with a loud 'thwack' on Tania's beautiful rounded arse, reddening it prettily where it struck. She made not a sound.

'You're a good slave,' commented Gwen, 'I think six of these will be enough to start with.' She laid into her work with all her might, concentrating on Tania's buttocks and upper thighs, and she was a lovely shade of scarlet by the time Gwen had finished. When she checked her sex again, she was dripping wet, and Gwen suspected she had concealed an orgasm.

'Now I shall whip you, Tania,' she said, 'you really want that, don't you?'

'Mmmm' she replied.

'Don't you?' repeated Gwen, harshly.

'Yes, Gwen.'

Gwen took up her favourite thin cane, with a leather handle, the one whose kiss she had so often tasted at John's hands herself, and made Tania put her lips to it lovingly, before drawing back and lashing her sharply across her tender upper back for the first time. A bright red welt appeared instantly, the width of her back, and was soon joined by another, and another, as the young girl squirmed in her bonds, gasping with the awful sting as the thin cane lashed her young flesh. Lower and lower Gwen worked, more and more Tania writhed, not merely in pain, but now in the throes of one orgasm after another, as she multiplied and cried out in agony and ecstasy at once.

When Gwen had finished, and Tania's back had a pattern of stripes which they knew would heal in a few days, Gwen tended them with loving care, and found her a soft silk nightgown to wear. Then they went to bed together, and made the gentle, tender love Gwen had previously planned.

Next day, Gwen took John at his word, and got together as many clothes as she thought it reasonable to take with her, took a tearful leave of Tania, with promises to stay in touch, and, with three suitcases, set off for her old home. Roger was due at about four in the afternoon, and she wanted to be ready for him. After checking that the house was in order, she paid attention to herself, realising that, although her marriage, before Roger had left, had been drifting into an aimless state of boredom, and looked to be doomed, she was actually looking forward to seeing him. Perhaps there was, after, all, something that could be done to save their ailing partnership?

Gwen looked at her naked form critically in the long mirror in her bedroom. Looking back at her was a confident, sensual woman that Roger would hardly recognise. Devoid of pubic hair, the faint marks of her last whipping still just visible on her lower back and buttocks, and she could swear that she had a different bearing altogether, as if the months of wearing ultra-high stilettos, cruel whale-boned corsets, and nipple-clamps, not to mention being invaded by butt-plugs and other anal instruments, had somehow altered her posture.

She brushed her long black hair to a silken sheen, and then stepped into the clothes he meant to wear for Roger's arrival home. She had decided on a navy-blue pleated miniskirt, mid-thigh length, coupled with a white silk blouse, buttoned up the back. There was, she thought, no way she was going back to wearing bra and panties. If Roger objected to seeing the way her breasts jiggled under the silk of her blouse, then it was too bad. She stepped into a pair of stilettos, and took another look in the mirror. Further from the image she had presented when she had seen him off, and had worn trousers, a jumper and flat shoes, it was impossible to be. For good measure she cinched a gold anklet around her ankle, and slipped in matching long gold pendant ear-rings.

At about four-thirty, she was watching some rubbish on the telly when she heard a car pull up. Looking through the lounge window, she saw a bronzed, slimmed-down, fit-looking Roger, wearing a lightweight beige suit, paying off a taxi driver, who had just dumped his two big suitcases by the gate. Gwen thought she'd better go and help him.

'You look good!' was her greeting.

'And – Holy Christ! What's happened to you?' he spluttered. 'Are you Gwen? Because sure as hell you're not the woman I left four months ago!' He stood with his mouth open, oblivious to a sudden shower which threatened to drench them.

'Let's get your cases in, then we can talk,' said Gwen, taking the handle of one of them.

'Four months, is that how long it's been?' she asked, as she turned to face him, slightly flushed with the effort of dragging in the heavy suitcase, the silk of her blouse, moistened by the rain, now clinging to her, so that her nipples stuck out prominently against the soft material. He had noticed, and she saw with some satisfaction that his eyes raked her body, took in her miniskirt, her ultra-high stilettos. 

'Yes, Gwen, four months, and not a word from you!'

'Hey – one postcard from you – not so much as a letter either. But we agreed, if I remember. Our marriage was having a rough time, wasn't it?'

'Thing is, where do we go from here?' he said.

'You could give me a kiss,' suggested Gwen, and he grinned and took her in his arms, planting a kiss on her lips. She responded by opening hers, and letting her tongue slide briefly between his teeth. At the metallic click of her stud, he pushed her away, and held her at arms' length.

'What's that all about?' he asked.

'Don't you like it, Roger?' she asked, sexily, and reaching for his hand, placed it firmly on one of her breasts, so that he could feel the hardness of her nipple through the damp silk.

She felt the front of his trousers, and the hardness there was unmistakeable – something which peeled back the years, reminded her that once they had had a hopeful, if naïve, sex-life. She pulled him into the lounge, and pushed him bodily onto the sofa, scrambling to straddle him there. As she pulled down his zipper and struggled impatiently to release his erection from his boxers, he ran his hands up her thighs, under her short, flared skirt. He gasped when he discovered she wasn't wearing panties.

'Gwen!' he exclaimed, what.....?' But she put a finger to his lips, and with her other hand, guided his hand to her shaven pussy, drawing from him another startled gasp. But she soon stifled it by taking a grip on his pulsing, hard shaft with one hand, and stretching her labia wide with two fingers of the other, so that he slid smoothly into her silky, moist cunt. The muscles of her vagina pulsed and heightened his pleasure in a technique that she had learned from John, and, when she knew he was on the verge of spurting, she pulled away enough to encircle the base of his cock with her hand, and her tight grip prevented him from cumming. After a moment, she resumed riding him, cupping her breasts, and pinching her nipples, her head thrown back, and her cries telling him she was nearing her climax. He abandoned himself now to driving deep within her, and heard her gasp, 'Cum now, you bastard, give it to me, cum, fuck me!'

He thrust his hips to meet her and they came as one in perhaps the first real fuck they had ever known in their married lives, and then lay together, sated, for maybe half an hour before either of them spoke. 

Finally, he looked at her and said, 'Gwen, what have you been up to? You aren't the same woman that....' 

She put her fingers to his lips, 'We said we wouldn't go down that road, before you went off, remember? I'm not about to ask you about your adventures with belly-dancers, or pretty boys, or sheep, or whatever. And I don't expect you to ask me about my last few months.'

'It's a deal,' he said, 'but, like I said earlier, where do we go from here?'

She stood up and looked at him, sitting on the sofa. He was still young, and looked fit and hard. He was also, she knew, an intelligent man. But he wasn't John. Question was; did she still love him enough to make a go of their marriage? And how to go about it?

Gwen decided to phone her friend Julie for a bit of guidance, and was rewarded with a dinner invitation for the two of them, for the following evening. She couldn't make up her mind if it was a good idea or not, and hadn't a clue how – or even if - Julie planned to broach the subject. Meanwhile, Roger's moods swayed from deeply suspicious to quiet and reserved, and she was not displeased that he had to go out for much of the next day, on business. 

When evening came around, she tried not to overdo it, wearing one of the more conservative dresses she had brought from John's, a short black velvet number, deeply cut out front and back, but not too revealing. The skirt was mid-thigh length, and under it she wore a garter belt, black fishnet stockings and black patent heels. She wore her hair down, a long dark, shiny mane, cascading to her waist. Roger, in cream chinos, a blue button-down shirt and moccasins, looked good, she thought, fit and tan.

When they arrived at Julie and Gavin's town-house, dinner was already prepared, and their au-pair, a sultry Czech blonde called Zdenka, in a black miniskirt and heels, was carrying in dishes. 

Gwen swallowed hard when her friend Julie skipped into the room, and Roger did a double-take, as she was wearing a long, completely transparent pink dress, tied at the shoulders by red ribbons, which matched those which could be seen under her dress, tying the sides of a pair of flimsy, transparent panties. Her ample breasts were supported by a matching pink half-bra, which allowed her nipples to poke out through the almost non-existent material of her dress.

'Where's the funeral, darling?' asked Julie, then, 'no, I'm joking, you look lovely, doesn't she, love?' At that point, her husband, Gavin, had entered, and he kissed Gwen, and shook hands with Roger, then they sat down to dinner. They ate in companionable silence, then relaxed while Zdenka served them with coffee in their spacious lounge. Throughout the meal, Roger had been unable to wrench his eyes away from Julie, and she, of course, was well aware of that.

When they all had had their glasses filled, Julie, stood up, Roger's eyes moving from her breasts to her barely-concealed pussy, and said, 'We ought to drink to Roger, back from the desert, as it were!' They raised their glasses in a toast, and Julie went on, 'I think Gavin and I have come to know Gwen very well, and we love her dearly. She tells me she would like us to get to know Roger as well. Perhaps we should do some ice-breaking! What does everyone say to a dance?'

There was a general muttering, which she took as assent, and she put on a CD, something slow and sensual, then held out her hand to Roger, who wasted no time getting to his feet. Gwen nestled comfortably into Gavin's arms, remembering that it was only a few short weeks ago that she had so willingly surrendered her anal virginity to him. As Julie slid across the parquet floor past the dimmer switch, she deftly turned down the light, and moulded her body to Roger's, delighting in the feel of his rampant cock against her stomach.

'You'd just love to fuck me, wouldn't you, Roger?' she whispered.

'Oh yes!' he breathed in her ear.

'Well, you'd have to hurt me first,' she said.

That jolted him, and he was both shocked and, at the same time, strangely excited beyond belief.

'What do you mean, hurt you?'

'I'd need you to whip me, hurt me, Roger. And that's what your wife wants too!'

He pushed her away to arm's length, 'Hey, I know my own wife!'

'Don't be angry, Roger. You know your wife as she used to be. Haven't you seen how she's changed? Her dress, everything? If you want to keep her, you'll have to play the game.'

He looked at her now, and she could see him working it all out – Gwen's change of attitude, her lack of underwear, shaven pussy, stilettos......

'Phew,' he said, but the grin spread back slowly onto his face, 'I'd still love to fuck you though,' he said.

'Not tonight, lover boy,' she said, 'this has been an evening for getting to know you. But if you want to talk over what I've said with Gwen, and you're going to get into the scene, then we'll fix an evening, OK?'

'OK,' he said, and he couldn't fail to notice Zdenka stood by the door watching the two couples. She was behind an ornamental pedestal, upon which stood a large plant, so that the lower half of her body was invisible, but there was something about the angle and movement of her arm – if he didn't know better, Roger would have sworn she was masturbating.

'Have you had her long?' he asked Julie, nodding towards the au-pair. 

'Neither long nor often,' she replied enigmatically, then stuck the tip of her tongue in his ear, 'nosy bastard!'

He thanked Julie, and meant it. 

On the way home, Gwen asked Roger what he and Julie had talked about.

'I'm sure you know,' he said, 'tomorrow you and I have to talk.'

He was right in thinking they were too tired to talk that night, and they slept late next morning.

When she came down, in a short silk slip, he was already dressed and coffee awaited her.

'So let's talk,' he said.

'I know Julie's already told you what you need to know,' said Gwen.

'She hasn't told me where all this comes from – what's been going on behind my fucking back,' he said, angrily.

She regarded him coolly, 'You go away to some God-awful sheikdom, where they treat women like shit, spend four months either shagging whatever comes your way, or wanking off over videos, or both, and you come back and get all reproachful. Sorry, Roger, but it won't wash. Suffice to say, I've seen the light, found a lifestyle I love, and need. I've found real sexual pleasure, for the first time in my life, been transported to places I never knew existed. If you don't want to share it with me, I'll find someone else who does. I'm going to dress and go out for a couple of hours. Give me your answer when I get back.'

She got up and left him, open-mouthed, coffee-cup raised halfway to his mouth. 

Gwen got home at half past eleven, having sauntered aimlessly around the shopping centre, just considering her options. Did she really want to leave Roger? And if so, where would she go? Would John have her back? She was pretty sure she retained a good deal of love for Roger, but just wondered how adaptable he would be. He was still sitting in the kitchen when she walked in – almost as if he had never moved, but she knew he had, because he had tidied up the lounge, and put a few things away.

'Sit down, Gwen,' he said, 'I've been thinking.'

When she sat down, she saw he was smiling – a good sign.

'I know we said we wouldn't talk about things, but I'll tell you about something that happened to me during my time in the Middle East. If you want to tell me anything after that, it might help us to understand each other.'

'OK,' she said, uncertainly.

'Well,' he started, 'I was involved in the design of a hotel complex for a filthy-rich old sheikh. One of his seven wives, a young and beautiful girl called Zia, was caught kissing the chauffeur, and sentenced to death, by beheading – not the most liberal of people, these!' He paused to see Gwen's horrified reaction. 'The old sheikh, however, reckoned himself a model of modernity, and commuted the sentence to a flogging, to which he invited all his friends, including me. Announcing that she was no longer of use to him, therefore did not have to be concealed from view, he tore off her clothes, right there in front of about six of us, tied her to a column, and whipped her viciously, while she writhed in agony.'




Gwen: Bound for a New Life Ch. 03



'Why are you telling me this, Roger?' asked Gwen, quietly.

'Because I came, in my pants, just watching, that's why, and I was so ashamed, ashamed of being a pervert.'

'You're not a pervert, darling,' she said, 'and let's just say for now that I have been shown the vital association between pain and pleasure, the paper-thin line that exists, and the importance of ritual and restraint. We can travel those roads together if you want, and share it with others, like Julie and Gavin.' She waited for his response, and got it when he took her hand in his, raised it to his lips and kissed her finger-tips.

'What happened to Zia after she was whipped?' she wanted to know.

'The old bastard had her driven out into the desert and dumped miles away from nowhere!'

A great load had been lifted from Gwen's shoulders, and when Julie rang, she gave her the good news. 

'Good,' she said, 'and not just because your husband wants to fuck me!'

'You cow!' said Gwen, laughing, 'but I'm hardly surprised in view of the dress you wore last night.'

'Listen, to be serious for a moment, darling – is he serious about things?'

'Yes, I think so.'

'Then both of you must come around after dinner, say tomorrow night, for a little session. What do you say?'

'Sounds good to me. If I don't call you back, we'll be there.'

Gwen spoke to Roger about the invitation.

'What kind of "little session" does she mean?' was his question.

'I suppose one or both of us women will be whipped,' Gwen said, licking her lips at the prospect, 'but we may not be turned out into the desert afterwards – I think our fate will be quite different!'

He looked at her in wonderment. 'And you are actually turned on by the prospect. No, don't answer that, I can see it in your eyes!'

'There's much more to it than that, Roger,' said Gwen, 'do you really want to know how to please me?'

'Of course.'

'Then go to this address tonight, ask for Janet or Lawrence, preferably Janet and tell them I sent you. They will tell you everything you need to know.'

'Just a minute,' he said, 'these aren't........I mean, you didn't......you haven't?'

She laughed. 'No, they aren't, and I haven't. They happen to keep the Gothic Club, which I have had occasion to visit, so they know me, and can help you to an understanding of the "new me"'

He turned the black card Gwen gave him over and over, then agreed to go, curiosity getting the better of him.

Gwen was already in bed when Roger got home from his expedition to the Gothic Club, but made no pretence of being asleep, as he snuggled behind her in bed.

'How did it go?' she asked.

'Interesting,' he said, 'and some dish, that Janet!'

'I'll bet she didn't let you fuck her though, did she?'

'She played footsie with me under the table, stroked my knee until I got a bloody great hard-on, all the while talking about all the things that turned her on. Then she told me they were the same things that did it for you! Christ, I could write a book on it if it's all true.'

'What did you do then?' 

She took me into their private theatre to watch a show. The males in the audience drew lots, and the winner got a blow job from a girl while she was being paddled on the arse.'

'What was the girl like?'

'Asian-looking. Long black hair, small tits, pretty.'

'Ah, so they've got Laya working.'

'Anyway,' he said, 'I've come to a conclusion.'

'What's that, Roger?'

'That this evening's left me fucking horny, and your shaven pussy is about the last straw!' 

He levered her legs apart, and she felt for his shaft, knowing immediately the truth of his last statement. She eased him inside her, letting him drive his full length into her eager cunt, but then she surprised him by encircling the base of his rod with her fingers, gripping him tightly, and pulling him gently out of her.

'Wait,' she ordered him, and flipped over onto her stomach, at the same time flicking on the light switch on her bedside table. He blinked as she pushed a pillow under her stomach, parted her legs, and, reaching her with both hands, held her arse-cheeks wide apart, lewdly presenting the dark tunnel of her now well-used anus to him.

'Gwen,' he began, you've never.....'

'Fuck my arsehole,' she told him, 'I want it so much, Roger!'

He needed no further invitation, and his rampant cock was more than prepared, slick with the juices of her cunt. He was amazed to find that it slid smoothly into the velvet heaven of her nether sheath, until he reached her sphincter, then she gasped with pain as his sheer size took effect, and the agony mingled into ecstasy, as it always did for her when she knew the sheer joy of anal sex. A tremendous orgasm came onto her like an express train, and she languished in its wake for a long time afterwards, and then said, 'We'll make it, you and I, Roger, I think, love!'

Next evening, the big decision was what to wear for the after-dinner occasion at Julie's. 

Gwen decided on restraint. Whilst at John's, she had been taken to Janet's corsetiere, who had made her a scarlet satin dress, knee-length, the bodice of which was really a corset, stiffly boned, so that when she buttoned it up in front, she had to call for Roger's help to pull tight the laces at the back, dragging her already narrow waist in to give her an hour-glass figure. The top was little more than a platform for her firm breasts, only just covering her nipples. The skirt was tremendously tight, so that she could scarcely walk, and all she wore under it were a pair of seamed black hold-ups, and black, needle-heeled, platform-soled shoes. That morning, a visit to the beautician had resulted in new porcelain nails, one of which, on the third finger of her left hand, she had had perforated, and fitted with a fine chain about three inches long, with a small stone clasped at the end. It kept getting in the way of everything, but was somehow another reminder of her sexuality.

She put a fur-wrap around her shoulders and pronounced herself ready.

When they arrived at Julie's, Gavin came to the door, and let them in.

'Maid got the night off?' asked Gwen, half in jest.

'No, she's a bit tied up right now,' said Gavin, and led us into the lounge, where we saw straight away what he meant. Zdenka, a sulky but defiant look on her dark features, regarded us from under hooded lids as we walked in. She was partially suspended by her slim wrists, which were cuffed to chains Gavin had installed – copies, Gwen realised, of those John had in his mansion. Her arms were extended above her head, and she was at almost full stretch, but could just stand, thanks to the high heels she wore. Apart from the heels, she wore her maid's black silk miniskirt and black stockings, but had been divested of her upper garment. They noted her remarkable puffy nipples, which projected proudly from small breasts to make an otherwise ordinary young body exciting.

Julie stood beside her, dressed in a long, sheer white gown, with a high neck and long, voluminous sleeves. It cloaked her completely from neck to floor, but every detail of her body could be seen under it, and all she wore was a heavy gold chain around her waist, and a pair of gold nipple clamps, connected by a fine gold chain.

'Ah,' she said, 'just in time! This little slut was trying on my clothes when I came home, and I'm going to have to punish her. Gwen, help me, darling, will you? By the way, I love your dress!'

'I love yours too,' said Gwen, quietly, 'perhaps we should just go to bed together.'

'Later, darling,' said Julie, 'I think we just might!' She licked her lips, then turned to the au-pair.

'Let's have her arse bare, for a start, shall we?'

Gwen unfastened the waistband of Zdenka's skirt, and eased it down over her hips. She was stark naked, then, her pussy clean-shaven, but Gwen couldn't resist fondling the girl's amazing puffy nipples, finding them firm to the touch, their tips hardening and lengthening under her fingers.

Gavin and Roger had got drinks, and were sat on a sofa, watching the proceedings, content to let the women take charge. 

'What do you think we should give her, darling?' asked Julie.

'Has she been whipped before?' asked Gwen.

'Not by us,' said Julie, 'but I don't know about before.'

Zdenka spoke up, 'I do no bad. You want hurt me? Not for bad – you understand?'

'I think she's trying to tell you that you can whip her if you want, but not because she's a bad girl,' said Gavin.

Zdenka nodded, and Gwen, on cue, felt the Czech maid's exposed slit, and found that it was more than a little moist. 

'I'm sure she's no stranger to the lash, Julie, and probably wants it, so let's warm her up with the paddle, and then give her a few real strokes with a crop, say four, that should be enough for a first time,' suggested Gwen.

'OK, said Julie, because I was going to suggest that we let you do it, and then let Roger give you some of your own medicine. It would be a great learning-curve for him, and I know it's a long time since you had any punishment, Gwen, isn't it?'

'Yes, my love, it is, and I can hardly wait!'

Julie handed Gwen a narrow, long-handled, leather paddle, which made a satisfying swish through the air. She spared nothing in her swing as he brought the paddle round, and cracked it hard against Zdenka's rounded buttocks. Her flesh reddened perceptibly, but she just opened her mouth slightly, and her breathing sounded marginally quicker in Gwen's ear, as she caressed her breasts with the shaft of the paddle before whacking her viciously again, just slightly lower down. A tiny gasp escaped her victim at that, and when Gwen inspected her reddening arse, and pushed her legs apart before giving her another, she asked Julie for a spreader bar. Julie produced one from her 'toy-box' almost instantly, a stainless rod about 40 centimetres long, with anklets at each end. This she fixed, and the girl's thighs were better exposed, so that Gwen could aim her next two stinging blows at her inner thighs, causing her to squirm under her bonds.

Gwen also noticed that Zdenka's anus was not the tiny puckered opening you would expect from an anal virgin, but looked like a well-used tunnel. 

When Gwen had given her a couple more strokes, and reddened her behind thoroughly, and had given back the paddle to Julie, she asked Gavin, 'Been at her arsehole, then?' 

'Certainly not!' he said, 'why?'

'She's no virgin at that end, Gavin – and I know that's your favourite entrance.' She could have added that losing her own anal virginity to him bore testimony to that, even though it seemed like a century ago. But Julie was back with a crop, which she had fetched from the bedroom. 'Keep it up there, darling,' she said, 'where else?' 

Gwen took to crop and showed it to Zdenka, who exhibited no reaction. 

'What do you think, Julie,' asked Gwen, 'do I really hurt her?'

Julie nodded, 'She can take it, in fact she wants it!'

Gwen took aim, and lashed Zdenka's upper back, her favourite target, and often a surprise to the receiver, with a fierce slash of the crop, raising an instant red welt across the width of her back. Still there was an absence of reaction from the maid. Julie had gone over to the sofa, and had pulled Gavin's growing erection out of his trousers, as Gwen struck once more, this time drawing distinct moan from the Czech's lips as a bright red stripe appeared below the first. 

'Can you take two more?' asked Gwen, holding Zdenka by her tawny hair, and speaking into her ear.

'Two. Yes!' she said, disdainfully, and Gwen kissed her full on the lips, pushing her studded tongue deep into her mouth.

Then she stood back and swung the crop, lashing her over the small of the back as hard as she could. She again put her hand into Zdenka's pussy – it was soaking, and she ground against Gwen's hand, so that she had no doubt that an orgasm was approaching. She quickly whipped her one more time, just below her buttocks, and heard a long, drawn-out sigh emanating from the girl's lips. She had cum, copiously, and Gwen just had to feel the juice that flowed from her sopping cunt.

'Take her down,' said Julie, to Gavin, and do what you like with her, darling.'

Gavin struggled to zip up his trousers, and then stood up and did as he was told. Gwen, Julie and Roger had a drink while Gavin and Zdenka left the room hand-in-hand, Zdenka looking fresh as a daisy.

'What did you think to that, then, Roger?' asked Julie.

'I really don't know,' said Roger, 'I hate violence, really, but this is different, and I was horribly excited, somehow.'

'Darling,' said Gwen, 'I'd hate to be raped, but I just love to be tied up and whipped, and to wear things that give me discomfort. I know it's strange, but.........' She didn't complete the sentence, because Julie had pulled her to her feet, and was unlacing her

dress. In moments, the dress was off, and Gwen was naked save for her black stockings and the five inch heels of her shoes.

Julie extended a hand to Roger and pulled him from the sofa.

'Now it's your turn,' she said, and leaving Gwen standing there for a moment, turned her back to Roger, and held up her long mane of hair.

'Unfasten my dress, darling, will you?' she asked, and Roger obliged. She shrugged the gossamer-fine material from her shoulders, and said to him, 'Please take my nipple-clamps off. I want Gwen to enjoy them.'

He unscrewed the little gold clamps, with their cruel, serrated mouths, and she yelped with pain as the blood rushed into her nipples.

'That's always the worst bit,' she said, ' but it's so exciting. Now put them on Gwen, nice and tight!'

Gwen was already kneading and tweaking her own nipples in anticipation, no stranger to clamps, and when Roger tightened them down, she only gasped slightly. Meanwhile, Julie had refastened her dress, and was ready with the paddle when Roger had finished cuffing his wife to the chains. As she was roughly the same height as Zdenka, no adjustment was needed.

'I'm not sure I want to do this,' Roger said.

'Oh, come on!' said Julie, there's nothing Gwen wants more, is there darling?'

Gwen nodded her assent, but that wasn't enough for Julie.

'Gwen, you should know better than that, my love,' she said, 'you must ask for it!'

Gwen smiled, dangling there naked and helpless, and said in a firm voice, 'I want you to hurt me, Roger, please. Whip me until I cum. Oh please, whip me, Roger!'

Julie passed him the paddle and he wasted no time in striking his lovely, naked wife, several vicious blows across her rounded buttocks, reddening them beautifully. She needed no spreader- bar, knowing to keep her leg apart, and he rained more blows around her shapely slender thighs, until they, too, were a delicate shade of deep pink.

When Julie pronounced her ready, he threw down the paddle, and she handed him the crop. As he was testing its arc through the air, and the 'swish' it made, she said, 'No, wait a moment!' Stepping towards him, she ran her hands down his taut body, and snaked her own, voluptuous, one up to him, feeling the huge bulge in his trousers. She quickly pulled down his zipper and dragged his rod from its prison. Moving around under his arm, so that she was on his left, and out of the way of his swing, she took hold of his cock in a fold of the skirt her dress, and said, 'Now, Roger, whip her!'

He was breathing hard as he fetched the crop down across Gwen's tender, white flesh, but Julie wasn't satisfied.

'Harder!' she ordered, and pumped his shaft to emphasise it.

He struck again, and Gwen writhed as a red wheal appeared across the middle of her back. A third stroke brought tiny pin-pricks of blood in its wake, and Roger feared he had gone too far, but when he asked her if she could take another, she said, 'Oh yes, yes please, don't stop now!'

He lashed her three more times, and she later told him she had had two enormous, shattering orgasms while he was doing it.

They all three went to Julie's bedroom, where Julie rubbed balm into Gwen's stripes, and Roger could hardly wait to get into bed with the two of them.

Gwen said her back was too sore, and she had already cum too many times to make love, but she was anxious that her husband put the finishing touches to his evening. She helped Julie out of her diaphanous gown, then arranged her friend face-down on the bed, lubing up her arsehole for her husband, an inserting first two, then three fingers, as Julie squirmed and moaned her pleasure. Roger, now drooling, and stiff as a ramrod, climbed up between Julie's legs, and rammed his huge cock home, causing Julie to scream as her delicate tissue protested at his invasion. He could wait very little, and though Gwen did her best, gripping the base of his tool to try and stop him cumming too soon, he soon stiffened an shot his hot, liquid load of spunk far into Julie's bowels.

They slept together, the three of them, until the morning light awoke them, and when they got downstairs, Zdenka was making coffee.

'Master Gavin still sleeping,' she said, 'very tired.'

'And you? Are you OK?' asked Gwen.

'My arsehole sore,' offered the maid.

Roger drank his coffee, wearing a contented smile.



Gwen: Bound for a New Life



Left to her own devices now, Gwen smiled to herself. She'd have liked to call Julie, but had no mobile phone. Wait a minute! There was a phone on the bedside table, but she hesitated to use it. What if it was forbidden? Another whipping? The thought brought with it mixed feelings. She dwelt upon it. Never had she had such an orgasm. Never in her life. Indeed, she felt her pussy getting moist again, just thinking about the strokes of the crop, and started to finger her cunt-lips, then flick gently at her clit, teasing herself as her nipples grew hard under the thin, transparent blouse. She looked at herself in the mirror, and another thought crossed her mind. 'What if I'm being watched on closed circuit TV?' She decided she didn't care, but it stopped her in her tracks just the same, and she went and looked out of the window.

Just then the phone rang.

'Yes?'

'It's John. Rest a while, and dress for dinner. Friends are coming, and I want you to make yourself beautiful. Tania will help you.' With that, he rang off.

Gwen lay on the bed and soon dozed for perhaps an hour, then there was a soft knock and Tania entered, still wearing the black minidress. 

'I've come to help you get ready,' she said, and immediately started pulling off Gwen's shoes and rolling down her stockings. 

When Gwen was naked, Tania went into the adjacent bathroom, and adjusted the shower to a perfect temperature, then pulled Gwen gently into the cubicle. That done, she stepped gracefully up to the door, slipped off her dress, and, without a word, joined Gwen under the warm spray, soaping her whole body and rubbing her all over with her own young curves, wrapping herself around the older woman like a second skin. Gwen noted that the girl had a luxuriant bush of pubic hair. Once again, Gwen felt herself close to a climax, and moaned with pleasure, holding Tania closer. The youngster grinned impishly, and said, 'The Boss had better not know about this.'

Rules, thought Gwen, there are more than those written down.

The shower done, Tania, still naked, her pointed young breasts, spiking Gwen's neck from time to time, dried her long hair meticulously, then painted her nails, rouged her nipples and cunt-lips, and made sure the butt-plug was still in place.

'Does it hurt?' she inquired.

'Not so much as at first,' replied Gwen.

'Good, because I am soon to be trained,' said Tania, clearing up a mystery.

Tania then helped Gwen put her hair up in an elegant swirl, which looked quite professional, she thought, and it was time to choose her dress.

After pondering for a while, she chose a long, backless, apple-green silk halter-dress, very loose and soft. It felt wonderful against her naked skin, soothing her still-sore buttocks where the red stripes stung. When she walked over to the mirror to inspect herself, her unfettered breasts jiggled, nipples grazing against the soft silk. 

She chose a pair of outrageously long pendant ear-rings, climbed on to a pair of stilettos, and was ready, and Tania left silently.

Soon, the phone rang. John said, 'Gwen, our guests are here. I think you know your way to the dining room.'

She made her entrance through the big oak door, and found the rest of the party standing around the end of the table, which was set for six. John introduced the other two couples to her. Both the men were in their forties, she reckoned, and had a sophisticated air. Gordon was taller than John and almost bald, whilst Raymond was strongly-built and shorter, and prematurely grey. They, like John, wore dinner jackets.

Gordon's escort (for it was unclear whether they were married couples or not) was Anne, who may or may not have been older than him, and was either deeply-tanned or had a touch of oriental blood, which contrasted oddly with her long platinum blonde

Hair, giving her a very exotic look. She wore a fishnet top, through which could plainly be seen her nipples on large, swollen aureolas, projecting from firm, smallish breasts. Below that she wore a long pleated skirt.

Raymond's partner was Lisa, much younger than himself, small and blonde, with a curvaceous body, wearing a short button-through dress which showed ample cleavage.

When they sat at the table, Gwen found herself beside Anne, who engaged her in conversation about her 'training.' It was soon clear that she herself had undergone the same process, and was proud of the fact.

Gwen was amused to note that Tania, who now wore a little frilly apron over her black dress, and the chauffeur, Trimble, were now serving at table. John may be wealthy, but foolish, he wasn't!

But Anne was talking to her about her training again, and, without warning, in the lapse between courses, the older woman took Gwen's hand, and held it a moment under the tablecloth, while she slid her skirt up her leg with the other. Then she placed Gwen's hand without ceremony over her slit, which was smooth and shaven like her own. But immediately Gwen found what she was meant to notice - Anne had a pierced clitoris! And not only that, she had a ring through her clitoris, from which depended a short chain, fastened to another ring, through one of her labia. Gwen thought this fascinating, and, looking around to see that the rest were deep into conversations of their own, she said so to Anne.

'I think John will probably want to have you marked in some way too,' she said, leaving Gwen in some doubt as to just how that might be.

The rest of the meal went by without incident, then they retired for coffee to the library she remembered all too well. 

Their coffee finished, John and Raymond conversed, and John rang a bell set into the wall. Tania appeared immediately, carrying a box, and made straight for Lisa. The young blonde seemed to be expecting it, and made no protest when Tania took restraints from the box and fastened them to the girl's ankles and wrists. She took off her high-heeled sandals. The restraints were made of supple leather, with a metal ring set in them. 

Tania then pulled back a curtain, which Gwen had mistakenly thought covered a window, revealing a large wooden cross with hooks set in to the arms. 

'Hook her up,' said Raymond, and Tania showed surprising strength as she hoisted the girl into position, slipping the rings over the hooks so that she was spreadeagled, her back to the room, toes barely touching the floor. Then Raymond stepped up and simply tore the dress from her back, leaving her completely naked.

John now spoke to Gwen, who had been watching in awe. 'Now it's your turn.'

'But, but, I've been whipped today,' was all she could say.

'Ha. That wouldn't prevent me doing it again. But that's not what I mean. You are going to punish Lisa.'

Gwen shook her head. 'I couldn't. I - I won't!'

'You will, and tomorrow you will be punished for this refusal.'

He turned to Tania. 'Show her the tray.' 

Tania fetched the tray from the shelf and walked over with it to Lisa, who looked over her shoulder. 'The cane,' she said clearly, as if she were asking for a cup of tea, 'I love the cane.'

'Give Gwen the cane,' said John, and Tania handed a thin, supple switch to Gwen, who was still very reluctant.

John took her by the hand and led her to within a couple of feet of Lisa, and ordered, 'Now.'

Gwen made a feeble gesture of a stroke across Lisa's buttocks, and drew an exasperated sigh from the watchers. It was Anne who came and stood behind her, and said in her ear, 'Come on, girl, she really wants you to hurt her, you know, she loves it.'

Thus encouraged, Gwen drew back and there was a swish as the cane fell, first across the left, then the right buttock, of the little blonde. Then Raymond wanted her to lash her back, then her thighs. Lisa bore it all with scarcely a cry, despite the red wheals which were now showing up and down her body, and, when they took her down she fell into Raymond's arms and told him how much she loved him. Then she thanked Gwen for the whipping, and John told her that was the normal procedure. 

Afterwards, they had drinks, served by Trimble, then the guests left, Lisa in a dress which John had Tania find for her.

He sat in his favourite armchair and held a hand out to Gwen, 'Go up to your room, and ready yourself for bed, Gwen. Do I have your permission to come and visit you?'

He asked her permission! She couldn't believe it - this man in whose house she was a guest, who had whipped her cruelly, and who had caused her to whip another guest, had asked her permission to come to her room!

She went up to her room, and slipped out of the dress, let her hair down, and brushed it out to its best silkiness, then found a short, transparent nylon nightdress. She could hardly wait.

After what seemed like ages, but was probably no more than twenty minutes, he knocked and came in. He was in a dressing gown, and when he came to her, she found he had nothing on underneath. He kissed her nipples, first through the nightdress, then he lifted it over her head, and took her breasts in his mouth with great gentleness. He reached down and played his fingers around her slit, working them into her vagina, then finding the butt-plug, he eased it gently out, to her relief. But he replaced it with a probing finger, deep into her anus, which she found quite wonderful, and was already close to orgasm. His cock was as hard as a pikestaff when she encircled it with her hand, then took it in her mouth, running her tongue around the glans so that he shuddered. Meanwhile she cupped his balls in her hands, and then pushed an index finger hard up his rectum. He gasped. Pre-cum was oozing from him and she licked and swallowed hard, but came up for air. 'Wait,' she ordered, taking charge for the moment.

Then she separated from him, lay back and grabbed a pillow, shoving it under her buttocks. In what was for her a novel gesture, she opened her legs wide, and lewdly separated her labia with two fingers, showing him the entrance to her wet cunt. He scarcely needed such an invitation, and plunged himself into her, driving hard deep within her, whilst he gripped her buttocks with both hands. There was to be no more waiting, and in very few mighty thrusts, he came in one huge surge, simultaneously with her massive orgasm. 

They slept in each others' arms, but, when she woke with daylight streaming through the shutters, he was gone.

She bathed and felt like a new woman. She could never have believed that such a world existed, or that she would have been capable of some of the things she had done yesterday, especially the cruelty she had shown to another girl. What had happened to her?

Slipping on a blue sundress and, inevitably, a pair of stilettos, she realised she was hungry, and went in search of breakfast. She found a buffet laid out, and pots of coffee in the dining room, and, although she had to take it alone, decided it was better than work, anyway.

Finishing her breakfast, she went for a walk around the gardens. It was a lovely, sunny morning, and life felt very good. But, as she returned, John was just arriving from somewhere, getting out of a sports car she hadn't seen before. He was dressed informally, in chinos and a polo shirt.

'Good morning, Gwen,' he said, rather sternly, 'Please come with me.'

He held out an arm and ushered her into the house.

When they were inside, he said, 'I hope you haven't forgotten that you are to be punished for your transgression last night.'

She had thought that their lovemaking had probably signified forgiveness, and was on the point of trying to suggest this in some way, but could see it was hopeless.

'Go and put on a white negligee,' he said, 'I like ritual.'

She went to her room, and found, in the wardrobe, a sheer white silk negligee, lace-trimmed, and tied with a cord. She slipped it on, and put on a pair of white high-heeled mules. She returned to the hallway, where he was awaiting her.

'Come to the library,' he said, and she quivered as he spoke.

When they got there, he took from his pocket a pair of nipple clamps, which he proceeded to place on her hardened nipples, then tighten unbearably. She yelped in pain, and he said, 'That will bring you extra strokes. You must learn to take pain in silence.' He told her to take off the negligee, which she did, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at her feet.

He pulled back the curtain, then had second thoughts.

'I'm not going to tie you to the cross,' he said, 'I have another idea.'

So saying, he produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and attached then to her wrists. Then he went to the wall, and pressed a button. A chain descended from the ceiling, to just above head-height. It ended in a snap-link, to which he clipped her handcuffs, so that she was attached but not suspended. She could move around as she wished. Then he came to her with the tray.

'Choose,' he commanded.

'The cane,' she said, without hesitation. He raised his eyebrows, and took the thin switch from the tray.

He stood behind her, and she heard the first swish as the cruel cane cut the air, then felt the terrible sting as it fell across the middle of her back. He showed great skill in not breaking her skin, nor hitting the same place twice, but she was weeping before he had lashed her ten times. 

Then he paused to feel between her legs, and he said, 'You're absolutely soaking, can you take more?'

'Yes,' she said, 'Make me come.' 

He lashed her hard across the buttocks and she cried out, this time as a violent orgasm shook her to the core.

But he had noticed that she had left out the butt-plug that morning, and was displeased about that too.

'Gwen, you must learn to follow rules,' he said, 'I shall now place another, bigger one, and you will wear the nipple-clamps until lunchtime. I'll release you now - perhaps you will learn your lesson. Go.'

He released her, and she picked up her negligee, and staggered from the room, up to her bedroom, where she buried her face in her pillow, and tried to ignore the pain and humiliation for the three hours that remained until it was time for lunch.

When she came down to lunch, in a plaid miniskirt and silk blouse, John was smiling, and waiting for her. 

'Here, let me take those clamps off,' he said, and reached inside her blouse, releasing the awful pain of the vicious little instruments.

'But just before we eat,' he said, 'I want you to put this in place.' He gave her a butt-plug at least a size larger than the one she had worn before, and she looked at it doubtfully. 

'Come on, it won't take a minute,' he said, and, without preamble, pushed her down on an armchair. Obediently, she spread her legs, and he probed with two fingers straight away, then worked some lubricant into her arsehole. 

'Much better than before,' was his verdict.

Without further ado, he rammed the new plug hard into her anus, causing her to scream with the pain, but, as it passed her sphincter, and she felt the sheer joy of its penetration, she started to feel a new orgasm welling up deep inside her.

'Oh, John,' she said, 'It's all so much - my arse, the whipping, and, above all, your wonderful cock - I could die now, and not wish for more.'

'You give me much pleasure,' was all he said, then they had a quiet lunch, just the two of them. Tania must have been eating elsewhere, perhaps with Trimble, she thought.

As seemed to be the custom, she had a long siesta after lunch, not exactly comfortable, with the huge butt-plug, and the livid marks of her recent caning, but she slept reasonably well, and it was almost seven when she awoke to find Tania knocking at her door.

The young girl had come to prepare her for the evening, with the news that John was taking her out to dine in a restaurant. Once again she helped her shower and did her hair and nails. For dining out she selected a short dress with a black velvet top, open to the waist at the front, and a black silk skirt which would blow up in the slightest breeze. She wore no stockings, but as an afterthought, cinched a heavy gold chain around her waist, under the dress.

John told her she looked great, and kissed her as they waited for Trimble to bring the car. When they reached the restaurant, one of the best in town, Gwen was amazed to 

see who were to be their companions, for sat at the table was no less than her old friend Julie, with a man she had never seen before.

Julie, dressed as Gwen had never seen her before, in a stunning long pale blue gown of material so sheer that her large breasts were perfectly outlined, the nipples upthrusting proudly, introduced her companion as Gavin, and they sat down to a good meal.

It soon became clear that John and Julie were old friends, and that Julie was well aware of the details of Gwen's training, so it was no surprise when John accepted Gavin's invitation for them to all go back to his home for coffee.

After a coffee and a couple of brandies in Gavin's lounge, John suddenly said to Gwen, in the manner of his sudden changes of mood, 'Get down in front of the sofa, Gwen, I want Gavin to see your butt-plug.'

She looked imploringly at him, but it was no good. No end of cajoling would have done any good at all. So she simply did his bidding, and John raised her skirt to the waist.

She felt him manipulate the huge plug, wiggling it slightly, causing her a sensation she now knew well, then she felt it leave her, with an audible 'plop.'

Julie laughed lightly, but said nothing, and when Gwen glanced round at her, John was stroking her tits through the thin material of her dress. 

Gavin had taken his place behind Gwen, and was slowly - ever so slowly - pushing two, then three fingers, up her virgin arsehole!

He produced a tube of lubricant, and smeared a liberal amount around the entrance, then wriggled his fingers in again.

'She'll do,' he said, and unzipped his trousers. He was as stiff as a ramrod, excited by the prospect of a virgin anus, and Gwen was frightened he would tear her as she felt his tip push irresistibly at her portal. Then he was in, firstly just the tip, then bit-by-bit, until he squeezed past her anal sphincter, and then he was fully embedded, right inside her. She cried out as he began slowly to pump in and out, helped by the lube, a couple of fingers in her cunt massaging the thin membrane that separated the two passages. Gwen's emotions ran the gamut of terror to pain to pleasure to ecstasy as she came in a tremendous orgasm that coincided with Gavin shooting his eager load right into her bowels.

Exhausted, she lay on the sofa with Julie, who had been giving John a blow job while they watched the performance, while the two men enjoyed a cigar. 

Later, she curled up with John on the back seat of the car as they sped through quiet streets on the way home.

'I don't have to keep on wearing the butt-plug now, do I?'

'No, I don't think so, but I had Gavin use you because he is smaller than me,' he laughed, 'and it's my turn tomorrow.'

She paled at the thought of his huge cock impaling her tight anus. 

He didn't come to her room that night, but she slept well, and awoke late, the sun making a dappled pattern on the opposite wall when she opened her eyes.

When she went down to breakfast, in the negligee she had worn for her last whipping, John was sat at the table.

'Ah, I see you are prepared for punishment.'

Her eyes widened, and he laughed, 'Just joking. We are going out this morning. When you have had a coffee, go and dress, and we'll go in about an hour, OK?'

She smiled. He was altogether more relaxed with her now, but she was in no doubt as to who was her master, just the same, and wouldn't have had it any other way.

She dressed simply in a little maroon pleated skirt and a white silk blouse, and as he hadn't told her where they were going, she thought she'd better put on stockings, so she donned a little white garter belt and a pair of patterned white stockings, which she thought looked nice. After slipping into maroon heels to match her skirt, she did a twirl in front of the mirror, pronounced herself satisfied, and went down to await John in the hallway.




Gwen: Bound for a New Life



It wasn't until they were in the car that he told her they were on a shopping expedition. She was curious to know what they were going to buy, but knew better than to ask questions.

They drew up outside a big house which resembled no shop she had ever seen.

When John rang the bell, a little oriental girl in a kimono answered the door, and led them through a lobby full of exotic plants, then bade them sit in a pleasant waiting room, on an overstuffed sofa.

After a couple of minutes, a lady in her fifties entered. She was tall and elegant, with nails like talons, her grey hair swept up into an extravagant swirl on top of her head. She wore an expensive-looking business suit, black stockings and medium heels. 

'Meet my good friend Vanessa,' said John. 

'So this is Gwen?' she said, holding out a hand so that Gwen rose from the sofa to be inspected. She turned her this way and that, then said, in a matter-of-fact voice, 'Undress, please.'

Gwen looked at her in surprise, then unbuttoned her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders. Her breasts stood out proudly, and Vanessa casually flicked her nipples with a finger as she loosed the waistband of her skirt and dropped it at her feet.

The older woman then ran a hand through Gwen's slit from back to front, without comment.

'Take off your garter belt and stockings,' she said, and, as she was doing so, rang a bell by the door.

After a minute the little Chinese girl came back with a box, and Vanessa relieved her of it without a word. From the box she took a leather garment, which it was instantly obvious to Gwen was a corset. She offered it up to Gwen's body, and it came to just below her breasts, pushing them upwards, and extended downwards to just above her buttocks, leaving them completely bare. She buttoned the corset in the front, and it felt very snug on her body. But then she whisked her around and started to lace it tightly in the back. Tighter and tighter she pulled the strings, until Gwen could scarcely breathe.

'There, that will reduce your waist,' said Vanessa, speaking mostly to John, 'Real pleasure depends, as you will know, upon many factors, and pain and restriction are just two of them. But I don't need to tell you.' 

John led Gwen out of the house, and she now had difficulty sitting down when they got to the car.

'You'll get used to it,' he said.

They went next to a seedy part of town, and John instructed Trimble to stop the car outside a shop advertising tattoos.

'I don't want a tattoo,' protested Gwen.

'You've consented to be marked, remember?' said John, 'but don't worry, this is not about a tattoo - come with me.'

He pulled her gently out of the car, and they went into the little shop, where a much-tattooed girl smoked behind a counter. John spoke to her in a brief whisper, and Gwen was shown into a back room. She was scared stiff, having no idea what was going to happen to her. When she saw all the piercing instruments lined up on a tray, she was even more worried, thinking instantly of Anne, and the pierced clit - how it must have hurt!

'Don't worry Gwen,' said John again, 'They assure me that all the stuff is sterilised here.'

A big bald brute of a man came bustling in, and said to Gwen, 'Come here, then, and stick out your tongue.'

She didn't know whether to be relieved or not - she was to have a tongue-stud fitted!

It turned out to be a more-or-less painless procedure, but felt really odd in her mouth. Just another thing she was going to have to get used to!

'But why?' she asked John on the way home.

'It will give more pleasure, I think,' was all he had to say.

Back at the mansion, they lunched in comfortable silence, and then Gwen retired to her room for her customary siesta. She was awakened by a knock on the door at about six. It was John, dressed in his silk dressing gown.

He sat beside her on the bed. 'Kiss me,' he said, and she complied, the strange feeling of the still-slightly-sore tongue with its stud clashing with his teeth, then his own tongue as she did so. That seemed to set him off, and his erection was soon tenting his dressing gown. She bent down and parted the gown, taking him in her mouth, rasping his glans lightly with the stud. He moaned, then pulled her up by her hair.

'Turn over,' he ordered.

When she did so, he spread her legs, and sought her anus, first with his fingers, then, without any prior lubrication, he rammed his huge tool straight home, right to the very hilt. She screamed as he invaded her tightness, tearing her sensitive membranes, she felt sure. But the sheer pleasure overwhelmed the pain, and she felt the monstrous orgasm gathering within her like a tropical storm. Soon it took over her very soul, and transported her to a new level of sheer ecstasy she had never dreamed of.

She must have passed out, because she failed to note the passage of time, then he was no longer there and she was alone in her room, covered with a silk sheet she was sure hadn't been there before.

She took a slow bath and dressed for dinner, carefully lacing the corset as tight as she was able, then putting on a long velvet skirt. She left her breasts free apart from a little bolero top, which covered them only in part.

They dined alone, Gwen and John, and that evening he made love to her with infinite tenderness, taking her slowly to the limits of delight, so that she had three more huge orgasms. 

Before he left her to sleep alone, he said, 'Tomorrow, you can help me. You know Tania is to be trained. The time has come, and I want you to assist with her initiation. You will have noticed she is not yet shaven. You will rectify that in the morning, and dress and prepare her. Go to her room after breakfast. I want her ready by eleven.'

Gwen slept well, as she had almost every night at the mansion. She went down in her negligee and breakfasted with John, who gave her a package, which he told her was for Tania's preparation, then showed her which was Tania's room. As she was about to get up, he said, 'But I think you should be whipped later today, don't you?'

She looked at him in a perplexed way, and he smiled, 'Because I want to, that's all.'

With that, he got up from the table and left.

When she got back to her room, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her nipples protruded through the transparent white negligee, and she wondered if the sight of her dressed like this had provoked John into ideas of having her whipped once more. There seemed to be an association of some kind there. She decided on a bit of extra adornment, and slipped on the heavy gold waist-chain underneath.

Sighing, and, despite her fear, starting to get excited at the thought of being whipped again, she tried to put the thought to the back of her mind, and made for Tania's room, package in hand.

Tania was waiting for her, in a short nylon robe. She was very nervous.

'I can't wait to begin. I've been waiting for today for months - he's been telling me to wait for ages, and look at me, I'm old enough, surely.'

Gwen led her, trembling, to her bathroom, and had her drop her robe to the floor. There, she lathered her whole pubic area thoroughly, and took a long time shaving her perfectly clean with the clipper and razor she had found in the package. She paid special attention to her cunt-lips and to her anus, making sure there were no vestiges of hair left. When she was satisfied, she oiled Tania all over, and the youngster said she was delighted with the result.

Then Gwen helped her with her nails, and rouged her nipples, which were small but hard, perched at the tips of firm, pert tits. When she moved to her labia, she found them moist with the eighteen year-old's juices, as she was anticipating the pleasures in store. Gwen couldn't resist running her fingers into the tight slit, and probing right into Tania's eager cunt, finding it now quite wet, and drawing a sharp gasp from the girl's mouth. Mischievously, she bent down, and ran her tongue the length of her slit, holding her labia apart with her hands, and grazing her clitoris with her stud. Tania moaned deeply and seemed close to orgasm, so Gwen knew she had to desist.

She had work to do. Peremptorily, amid protests from Tania, she got up, and fetched the package, taking from it a tube of lubricant. Smearing a liberal amount on her fingers, she ordered the girl to turn over. Tania complied, and Gwen roughly pulled her legs apart, then started working the lube into the tiny puckered opening of her virgin anus.

It was even a tight fit to work a finger in to the rectum, but with a deal of wriggling she managed eventually to get two fingers in, and Tania was crying in pain. She reached back into the package and brought out the smallest size butt-plug, and inserted it as gently as she could, but knew it still hurt terribly. 

She took Tania's face in her hands, dried her tears, and kissed her until she was calm.

Then she helped her into a transparent blouse and silk miniskirt she knew would please John.

'Go down, now, and present yourself. You are ready,' she said.

Gwen decided that, as she was to be whipped anyway, she might as well stay in her negligee, so she went down to the library, where she knew Tania was presenting herself to John for the start of her training.

'Does she please you?' she asked, when she entered, and saw that John was holding Tania by the hand, inspecting her critically.

'Yes,' he said, 'You have done well.'

He lifted Tania's skirt and ran his hand around her smooth pubes and buttocks, and paid special attention to her newly-invaded anus.

'Does it hurt?' he asked.

'Yes,' she replied.

Without further ado, he led her to the sofa, and placed her as he had done Gwen on her first day, over the back. 

'Don't move,' he ordered, nad walking over to the tray, on its shelf, he returned with a flogger, effectively a cat-o'nine-tails. 

He came and whispered to Gwen, 'This hurts very little - it's a starting point.'

He lifted Tania's skirt and there was a terrifying swish as the cat flew through the air. Tania screamed, more in anticipation than real pain.

'Quiet!' ordered John, sternly.

He gave her ten strokes, reddening her arse thoroughly, then he felt her crack and pronounced her moist. 

'Sit there on the sofa and masturbate now. I want to see you climax,' he said.

Tania looked uncertain, so Gwen, came and put an arm around her, whispering to her that she should do it and abandon herself to her pleasure.

The youngster opened her legs and started to let her fingers massage her already throbbing clitoris, then, as she felt her orgasm building, she thrust two fingers hard up her vagina as far as they would go, and cried out sharply as her climax overtook her.

Watching Tania masturbate had excited Gwen still more, and she was dripping as she stood by her master, when he ordered the youngster back to her room.

'Shall I whip you now?' he asked, as if he were asking her about the shopping list.

'Oh yes, please,' she replied.

'With what?'

'The crop.'

He drew back the curtain and, stripping off the negligee, then cuffing her wrists and ankles, he made her fast to the wooden cross, so that she was spreadeagled and offered.

He took up the crop, and immediately began to lash her back hard, moving systematically down to her buttocks and thighs. She made not a sound, even though the pain was awful, but each cutting stroke brought with it a wave of intense pleasure she could never have begun to describe, and she let herself succumb to multiple orgasms so ferocious that she thought she would pass out.

When he took her down she fell into his arms and cried out weakly. She scarcely knew what he was doing when he spread her legs on the floor in front of the sofa, and took her arse with one vicious thrust, impaling her and spending his seed all in one mighty roaring moment. The pain merged with all the rest of pain she felt and was one with the pleasure and happiness she now knew to be hers. For how long, and to what end, she neither knew nor cared.

THE END (for now!)