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Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 01

By: Schlank



Author's Note: This story is a tribute to John Willie and the bondage stories that he wrote and illustrated back in the 1950s and 60s. Sadly, John Willie died back in 1962; however his contributions to the world of BDSM have made a huge impact on bondage enthusiasts decades after his death. Submissive Gwendoline and dominant Agent U-69 are role-models for many of us in the bondage community.

* * * * * * * * * * 

My name is Gwendoline Schön. As far back as I can remember I always loved to be made helpless and tormented. I remember being a huge fan of the story of Cinderella as a girl and used to have dreams at night where I was Cinderella and my cruel stepmother and her abusive daughters kept me naked in their house and forced me to scrub the kitchen floor on my hands and knees and each of them wore a leather belt around their slender waists. And if I failed to scrub the kitchen floor to their satisfaction, those leather belts would come off and be used to swat my poor naked bottom until I yelped in pain.

Sometimes I still have this dream.

While other girls in my neighborhood wanted a Prince Charming to come marry them and take them off to a beautiful castle to live happily ever after, I was the girl who wanted an evil step-sister to tie me up and take me to a dark, forbidding dungeon where I'd be stripped naked and chained up and tormented forever.

I didn't take long before I realized that my desire to be stripped naked, bound and tormented would never be understood by society at large. Girls who want to be tied up and abused are weird or some sort of freak. I learned at a fairly early age to keep my mouth shut about my desire to be humiliated and subjected to physical abuse.

And then I met Christina.

I never had to tell Christina that I had a desire to be dominated, humiliated and abused. She figured this out all by herself.

It all started out one weekend when I was at McKenna's buying clothes. I took a mini-dress into the changing room to see how well it would fit. It actually fit quite well, it was snug in all the right places and showed off my slender waist and flat belly quite nicely, but when I took it off my near-naked reflection in the full-length mirror caught my eye and I was sort of hypnotized by it.

Standing there in just my bra, panties and high-heels in the small changing room, I looked quite vulnerable. It was quite easy for me to imagine that this small changing room was actually a prison cell and that I was a prisoner, forced to strip by a cruel jailer.

The door to the changing room was kinda thin, but there was a lock on the door. I locked the door from the inside to ensure absolute privacy and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked vulnerable in just my bra and panties; however I decided; not vulnerable enough. With trembling hands and a rapidly beating heart, I undid the clasp on my bra and freed my breasts from their bondage. Then I took each of my nipples, closed my eyes and I pinched them hard, imagining the hands that abused my flesh were actually the hands of a cruel jailer. I pinched and twisted my poor nipples until they ached horribly and there were tears welling in my eyes. When I finally opened my eyes, my nipples were swollen, throbbing and erect and several shades darker from their normal pinkish color.

I had never done anything like this in a public place before and I found it much more exciting than doing it in the privacy of my own home. The fantasy seemed more real and I felt more exposed and vulnerable somehow. I suppose it was being in an unfamiliar place that did it. I was standing on somebody else's territory and whoever owned that territory was in authority here. I was just a naughty girl who was intruding in their dominion. 

I decided then to get completely naked. I took off my shoes and then hooked my thumbs into the tight, flimsy fabric of my tiny hiphugger panties and pushed them down my bare legs and stepped out of them once they hit the floor.

Once I was completely naked, I got down on my knees and placed my hands behind my back, crossing my wrists as if they were bound together. When I looked in the mirror I saw a naked, panting, submissive girl on her knees.

With my wrists crossed behind my back my breasts were pushed forward almost as if I were inviting somebody to fondle them or to abuse my already sore nipples. My excited breathing highlighted my strong stomach muscles. My shaved labia were glistening with wetness as I knelt there with my knees far apart.

I was so hot and bothered what I really wanted to do was finger myself to orgasm, but I'm not the kind of girl who can do that quietly. When I masturbate, I pant and moan and sometimes at the moment of climax I even make inarticulate wailing sounds. I would have to wait until I got home to masturbate, either that or suffer the humiliation of allowing dozens of store patrons and employees know that I had an orgasm in the fitting room at McKenna's.

I didn't play with my pussy, but before I got dressed I tried a few more submissive poses in front of the mirror. While still kneeling I raised my arms up as high as they would go, as if my wrists were shackled and held high above my held from a chain suspended from the ceiling. This posture lifted my breasts and made them more prominent. I imagined that some sadistic captor might like keeping me bound this way so that he might fondle my breasts or even punish them with some sort of leather belt or strap.

I tried one more position in front of the mirror before I got dressed. I stood up and placed my bare feet approximately thirty inches apart, baring my shaved sex quite thoroughly, leaving it open and available. I also laced my fingers behind the back of my head with my shoulder back, my spine arched and my breasts thrust forward. This position left every inch of my nude body available. 

I imagined that I was a naked slave being inspected before a slave auction and that prospective buyers were examining my nude body. Every inch of my naked flesh was available to be ogled, fondled, fingered, pinched, squeezed and cupped. I got excited just thinking about all of the clothed strangers who would pinch my nipples, cup my breasts, squeeze my buttocks and separate my buttocks so that they could insert a finger in my anus and wriggle it around inside of me. My breasts heaved up and down as I thought about being treated like property and inspected and evaluated by uncaring strangers. At one point I reached between my widespread legs and pinched my exposed labia and pretended that it was a cruel prospective buyer who did it just to make me flinch.

I quickly got too excited and had to get out of there. I needed to get out of there and deal with the frantic throbbing in my sex. I got dressed rapidly and walked over to one of the cashiers, feeling feverish and panting almost as if I were going to pass out. I paid for my dress and the very nice girl at the cash register asked me if I was alright just before she gave me my receipt.

"I'm feeling kind of hot and feverish," I admitted, not explaining the reason for my body heat. I could feel sweat forming on my torso and causing my shirt to cling to my skin. My legs felt shaky and I felt flushed as I attempted to walk out of the store.

However as I attempted to exit the store, I was intercepted by two security guards. "Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to come with us," the female security guard said as she stood in front of me, blocking my path.

"Why? What'd I do?" I asked, urgent to get home as quickly as possible and deal with the urgent need in between my legs.

"The store manager needs to speak with you," replied the security guard in an officious manner. "Please just follow me, Miss and don't make a scene."

I was outnumbered two to one, both of the security guards were bigger than me and they had guns, handcuffs and pepper spray. As much as I really wanted to go home immediately, I was overwhelmingly intimidated by these two. So I followed the female security guard as she led me to the store manager's office.

The manager's office was way in the back of the store, in an area most patrons never see. I felt a grim sense of dread and foreboding as the security guards knocked and announced that they had intercepted me before I could leave the store.

"Bring her in," called out the manager from the other side of the door. Her voice sounded firm and commanding.

The uniformed security guard ushered me in while her partner remained outside. The manger was a woman in her early thirties with high cheekbones and angular face and full lips. Her eyes were intense and seemed almost as though they could look right into my soul. She wore a two-breasted business suit and had her raven-dark hair pinned back in a bun. She made eye contact with me and suddenly I felt like a little girl who had gotten caught cheating and sent to the principal's office. I hadn't actually done anything wrong, but she looked at me with those eyes and I just felt guilt-ridden and ready to repent. It was like I was in the fifth grade all over again.

"Alright, young lady, let's see some ID, please," the intense woman said. Legally I wasn't even certain that she had the right to demand to see my ID, but the way she looked at me and the tone of her voice made me feel like a ten-year old girl that had just been sent to the principal's office. I reached into my purse without thinking and with numb fingers took hold of my driver's license and handed it to the store manager.

She stared intently at my license as if judging it somehow and finally said, "Gwendoline Schön, born June 6th 1993. That would make you twenty-one years old."

I had no idea why she would be concerned with my age, but apparently she was. 

"I can take it from here, Connie," the store manager said to the female security guard and soon I was alone in the office with the woman who made me feel like a guilty schoolgirl.

"Do you know why you're here?" the assertive woman asked.

My mouth was dry and I could barely speak. "No ma'am," I answered. "Am I in some sort of trouble?"

She ignored my question and went on to say, "Before I became the manager of this store, we lost over $72,000 a year to theft. Defeating the shoplifters was one of my primary goals when I first took over, with that in mind I had hidden cameras installed in all of the changing rooms. Thanks to the cameras and the fact that someone is almost always monitoring the video feed, losses due to shoplifting is now down to less than $1,000 a year."

My blood ran cold at that revelation. Her hidden cameras no doubt saw me abusing my nipples, pinching and twisting them like some sort of freak and then sticking my breasts out as if offering them up for somebody else to abuse.

"Now, I have video footage of you in one of my changing rooms. You weren't trying to steal from me, but your behavior in there was lewd and pornographic. It's the sort of thing that I'm sure you wouldn't want me sharing with my security team."

I felt my face grow hot and her words became faint and hard to focus on. I had spent years attempting to hide my sexual urge to be bound and tormented and now this woman had videotape evidence of exactly the sort of thing I'd been trying to hide.

At first I was too astonished to speak. For a few seconds I just stared at her. Eventually I managed to work up enough control over my tongue to say, "You're not going to show it to them, are you?"

"They're my security team," the manager said coldly, "They see most of the security footage that we record here."

I snatched at a tiny crumb of hope and asked, "Most?"

The manager gave me an enigmatic smile. I was uncertain what to make of it; however I would do just about anything to keep my embarrassing performance in the changing room from being seen by anybody else.

The store manager steepled her fingers, looked me in the eye and said, "As store manager I have a certain amount of discretion in what video footage is shared with lower level employees. I could keep this video footage just between you and me; however I'd want something in return. Are you willing to engage in a little quid pro quo with me?"

I didn't actually know what quid pro quo meant. The store manager had to explain it to me. It's Latin; basically it means that if she does a favor for me, I have to do one for her.

"Of course," I said far too enthusiastically for my own good. "I'll do whatever you want in exchange for making certain that that video footage remains buried and never sees the light of day! My reputation would," I said faltering, flustered and having trouble finding the proper words.

"Well, my reputation would just be ruined. People would think I'm some sort of freak if they saw that security camera footage!"

"Then we have an agreement," the store manager said. She wrote down her name and address. I was to meet her at her home at 8:00 AM the very next day. If I was late or didn't bother showing up, she'd show the security camera footage to every member of her security detail.

I thanked her profusely for the deal and didn't even ask why she wanted me to come to her house. For all I knew she could have been a serial killer and she would slit my throat within seconds of showing up at her home, but I was so thrilled at not having my secret perversion shared with the outside world, that it never even occurred to me that I might be walking into some sort of trap or perilous situation.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

The next day was a Saturday, so I didn't need to go to work and apparently neither did the store manager of McKenna's.

I showered, washed my hair, shaved my legs, armpits and vulva and got dressed. I was out of the house by 7:00 and made it to Christina's house in plenty of time to meet her deadline.

I hadn't mentioned that before, had I? The store manager's name was Christina Ward.

When Christina opened the door to her home she was dressed all in black; a long-sleeved black crewneck, black yoga leggings and some very stylish black leather boots.

I suppose I should have taken her black attire as a sign of dark things to come, however I was so pleased that my reputation wasn't to be ruined that I didn't even begin to suspect that something wicked was headed my way.

"Enter freely and of your own free will," said Christina, sounding very pleased. Once I had stepped over the threshold, she added, "You're early. I like that, it indicates a predisposition for obedience."

"Yes, ma'am," I said politely. 

She paused as if expecting me to say something more. When I just stood there, she added, "Gwendoline, when we struck our deal you said that you would do anything to make certain that I kept your little secret and didn't share the footage from the changing room security camera with anyone. Is that still your position?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said again, wondering where this was going. If this was about money I was screwed. I worked as a bank teller and made very little money. I was hoping we could work out something else, possibly having me mow her lawn or clean out her garage for her.

"Very well," Christina said staring intently at me while stroking her chin. "For the next three months I shall expect you to come to my house every Saturday and Sunday morning. You will arrive no later than 8:00 AM and you will stay here until 5:00 PM. Also I'll expect you to be here at 8:00 on Independence Day. That's a federal holiday, so you shouldn't be expected at work on that day."

I actually breathed a sigh of relief at that. This would have nothing to do with money. This would probably just involve manual labor, something which I had been accustomed to doing ever since I was eight years old.

"But before we get you down to the basement, take off your clothes, all of them."

Once again I was dumbfounded and too astonished to respond. I stared at her, fairly certain that I must have heard her incorrectly.

While my tongue was tied, Christina rephrased the order in a very firm tone of voice, "I told you to strip. Get your clothes off, all of them. I want to see your body, see what you looks like."

Again, I hesitated, but finally found my voice, "But you've already seen my body...on the security camera video I was totally naked. I was..."

"Gwendoline," she snapped at me, interrupting me in mid-sentence, "while you are in my house you will obey all orders without question. You had agreed to do anything to keep me from releasing that video. Are you already backing out of our arrangement?"

"No, I swear," I stammered, panicking that I might have just ruined everything, "Look, I'm doing exactly as you said! I'm taking off my clothes!"

I was too nervous to maintain eye contact with her and my fingers trembled as I attempted to unbutton my shirt. It was a long-sleeved button down shirt and it seemed to take an eternity to get all eight (or was it nine?) buttons undone. Eventually I got all of the buttons undone and I pulled my shirt free from my skirt. Still nervous and trembling I pulled my shoulders back, and shrugged out of the shirt. We were standing in her dining room, so I draped my shirt over a dining room chair.

With my shirt off, my racerback demi-bra was exposed and of course my uplifted breasts were spilling out of the demi-cups, exposed and perfectly visible to Christina's intense gaze.

The helpless feeling of surrendering my modesty and allowing Christina to strip me naked caused my pulse to race and my skin to heat up and become feverish. Her aloof, unsympathetic eyes on my exposed flesh gave me a feeling of vulnerability. Soon I would have my naked flesh exhibited to this demanding woman, much like my Cinderella fantasies of being exhibited naked in front of a cruel stepmother and her abusive daughters.

My shoes were next, followed slightly after by my skirt. My hands were still trembling; however I seemed to be able to work the zipper with less difficulty than the buttons on my shirt. I slid the skirt down my thighs and dropped it on the chair with my shirt.

With my bare thighs and high-cut bikini panties visible to Christina's gaze, she seemed to be burning holes into me with her eyes. She had a hungry look on her face, almost as if she wanted to eat me up.

I panted nervously, like a rabbit that's being stalked by a wolf however I couldn't deny that I felt a familiar warmth in between my legs. I just hoped that Christina failed to notice that I was becoming excited at the way she was humiliating and exposing me.

I was appalled that this woman might guess that I was as aroused as much as I was frightened and embarrassed, however I tried to push that to the back of my mind and continued to strip. I was almost naked at this point and since my bra fastened in the front I reached in between my breasts and felt for the clasps. My potent mixture of shame and arousal seemed to intensify as the clasp of my bra came loose and my breasts spilled out. Christina's cold, unpitying eyes seemed to be affecting me from across the room. It was almost like I could feel Christina's hands on my bare breasts. I placed the bra on top of my skirt and shoved my thumbs into the waistband of my panties. I pushed the bikini panties off my hips and down my thighs, eventually allowing my panties to fall to Christina's dining room floor.

Without thinking I placed a hand over my shaved vulva. My pubic lips had become swollen with arousal and I was embarrassed at the idea of Christina guessing that I getting turned on by the imperious way that she had just forced me to strip in front of her.

"Don't cover yourself," Christina snapped. "Put your hands behind the back of your neck. That's better. Elbows back."

My breasts rose and fell as my breathing became labored. This intimidating woman had left me feeling both humiliated and aroused. My heart was beating like a drum and I was overwhelmed by the powerful mix of emotions that Christina had forced me to experience.


Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 01



Christina sauntered over to my nude body and I struggled to hold the humiliating and vulnerable position that she had ordered me to hold. Then I felt further shame when Christina kicked out with her black leather boots and booted my feet apart, opening my thighs and letting my swollen pubic lips feel the cold air. Then Christina took two steps back, admiring my nude, vulnerable body. I stood before her filled with trepidation, dread and anticipation, totally open, naked and exposed like a slave on the auction block ready for inspection.

Christina's gaze made me feel helpless and intimidated. My breathing continued to be labored and I felt feverish and tense as I waited to see what she would do next.

Then, much to my surprise, she looked at me with those cold, blue-grey eyes and asked, "Are you wet?"

I could feel the moisture in my vagina, but I was far too embarrassed to confess to this woman that being forced to strip had aroused me. As a result, I seemed to regress back to childhood and I felt like a guilty twelve-year old girl when I replied, "I dunno."

Without warning Christina snaked a hand between my widespread thighs and inserted a finger into my slit. I gasped but didn't break position, allowing the intimidating woman to explore the interior of my pussy. Eventually one strong finger became two and they both probed my sex until I could feel my clitoris beginning to swell.

Her fingers came away wet with my juices, juices which she then wiped off onto my panties.

"You're of a very rare mindset, Gwendoline," she said to me as she favored me with a predatory grin. "You undoubtedly enjoy a stern hand, humiliation and harsh orders. I can give you all of that, and I will give you that every Saturday and Sunday from 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM."

I shuddered at her words. Never before had anyone spoken to me quite like this. Yes of course, I thought somehow without even trying to, I had found the cruel stepmother that I had so desperately yearned for all of these years.

"Have you ever been tied up before, Gwendoline?"

The question broke me out of my reverie and I stared at my newfound cruel stepmother. "No, never," I responded honestly.

"Then you're in for a new experience today."

* * * * * * * * * 

Within minutes I was down in her basement, no pride, no dignity, completely naked, my clothes upstairs on a dining room chair and I was standing there barefoot on the freezing cold tiles, no doubt red-faced with shame, my hands still obediently placed behind the back of my neck as I had been ordered not to cover my privates. And my humiliation was complete when I realized that my nipples were painfully erect and my womanly juices were leaking out of my sex and staining my bare thighs.

Christina gave me a tour of her basement. It looked rather like a dungeon. 

"You'll notice that I've had iron rings set in various places in the floor, the walls and the ceiling," Christina said with the air of a tour director, "And I do believe that you'll look absolutely fetching tied to that post that goes from floor to ceiling." 

She then turned and studied my naked form, "We'll tie you there first."

"However we also have this bench and that heavy table. I have heavy leather straps with buckles on each if you look closely. I can make you helpless quite easily."

Then shew drew my attention to a wooden 5-drawer chest. "In here I had ropes, handcuffs, leather restraints, chains, shackles, paddles, riding crops and all manner of tolls of corporal punishment. I'll give you opportunities to enjoy them all."

I think there was an unspoken understanding between us that day that our arrangement was more than a vulnerable girl being blackmailed. It was a woman of knowledge and experience taking an awkward, inexperienced devotee and teaching her everything she needed to know about the world of bondage; showing me the ropes so to speak.

"And now," Christina said firmly, "If you'll back up against that post, I can show you what it's like to be tied up.

Obediently I backed against the timber. Busily Christina produced rope. To stand naked and be bound! My breathing became excited as Christina ordered me to wrap my arms around the post so that she could tie my wrists to iron rings embedded in the wood. My naked bottom was pressed firmly against the post while Christina tied me.

"You're quite virginal," Christina said as she tightly roped my passive wrists. "Have you ever been spanked before?"

"Never," I responded.

"Not even by your mother?" Christina asked, "How about your father or teachers at your school?"

"I was actually a very well behaved child," I responded while Christina tightly bound my naked flesh. "And the punishments I did receive usually involved being grounded or taking away my phone."

"While you're here I will have to spank you," Christina informed me. "It will take some getting used to at first, however you'll soon learn to view it the same way you view being tied up and helpless."

I was shocked at the revelation and almost protested, a spanking would be a form of assault. Technically I could go to the police and have her charged if she spanked me, but then I had a revelation. If I truly had a cruel stepmother, she and her wicked daughters would almost certainly spank my bare bottom. Somehow it then seemed proper to me that Christina should spank me as well,

Then Christina tugged so tightly on a rope around my waist that I gasped and winced in pain.

"I'll have to start by being lenient with you," Christina explained, "However I will have a list of rules for you to follow while you're in my house. The rules will be easy to obey at first, but the longer you're here the more difficult it will be to follow them, and of course I'll have to punish you each time you disobey."

The way Christina spoke to me was much like the way that I envisioned my wicked step-sisters might speak to me. I felt my pussy begin to throb and vainly wished that I could touch myself down there.

Christina had tied my ankles tightly to iron rings set into the floor, and much to my shame they were far enough apart that my pussy was well on view. Christina could easily see how pink, swollen and wet my pubic lips were.

The ropes around my waist seemed extremely unnecessary, so did the ones just underneath my breasts. I looked down at my own body and saw that Christina's rope bondage had caused my twin spheres with their pink, erect nipples to thrusting themselves into prominence. And then much to my surprise Christina kissed each of them lightly; then bit each nipple with a severity that surprised me.

The look of shock on my face must have been obvious as Christina gave me a look of amused curiosity and said, "You've never had your nipples bitten before. Want me to do it again?"

"No, oh please don't!" I had pinched my own nipples before, however I still held some sort of fear when it came to teeth on my sensitive, swollen nipples. I felt obligated to speak up and try to protect them from Christina's teeth.

"You can't stop me, Darling."

Christina was certainly correct about that, the way she had me fixed I could barely do more than tremble in my bonds. I struggled against the ropes, but succeeded only in wearing myself out and working up a slight sweat.

Somehow the helplessness seemed to make anything Christina did to my naked body alright. Nothing that happened from this point on could possibly be my fault. If Christina did something to my naked body it wasn't because I was a freak, it was because Christina wanted to do it and I was helpless to stop her.

Christina took one of my sensitive nipples into her mouth and sucked. I gasped and panted as Christina's lips and hard small tongue worked their magic on my breasts. The throbbing heat in between my legs became even more intense, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Naked and helpless I looked down at my prominent breasts. My nipples were red and erect. They were still wet from the mischievous lips. 

"Now that you're tied my darling, I'll instruct you of the first set of rules you'll need to follow in order to avoid being punished."

At those words I stopped obsessing about my breasts and my head snapped up. I listened intently, not at all certain that I wanted to be punished. Yes, Cinderella would always be punished by her wicked step-sisters and her cruel step-mother, but wasn't Cinderella obligated to attempt to protect herself from punishment? Even if you were resigned to be abused by a cruel women, wasn't there some sort of code that obligated you to try and minimize the amount of torments that you suffered?

"Obviously you must never be late arriving at my house for our little sessions. From now on I shall expect you to strip naked without being told. I don't care if I have my mother visiting; or if an Avon saleslady is here or a chapter of the National Organization of Woman has a huge delegation in my dining room, the instant my front door closes behind you, I expect you to strip naked."

I swallowed hard at this. The concept of me stripping naked in front of strangers in Christina's home was a daunting one. Should the issue ever arise, I wondered if I would have the courage to strip naked in front of Christina's mother or a visiting saleswoman.

"Next, I shall require that you address me as Mistress at all times. If you refer to me as Christina or Ma'am or any other title, I'll have to punish you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied.

"Good girl," Christina said; a slight smile on her lips. "You're a fast learner."

"I like this look here," Christina said as she reached in between my widespread legs and cupped my clean-shaven vulva. I gasped and shuddered when her hand touched my exposed pubic lips.

"You should always keep your pussy shaved like this," Christina informed me. "I'll inspect you every day you come over and if I find even one pubic hair, you'll be punished for it." I shuddered at the way she was speaking to me. It was frightening, but also very exciting. Of course I resolved to follow all of her rules, partially to avoid punishment, but partially because I had a strong desire not to disappoint this proud, imperious woman.

"I suppose those four rules will do for now," Christina said, "You are a novice at this and too many rules at once would overwhelm you."

There was a silent pause and then Christina added, "Oh, I suppose one more rule won't hurt. Darling, I'm banning you from masturbating. I want you to be completely dependent upon me for all of your orgasms."

I was stunned at this last rule. I whimpered as my blatantly exposed sex tingled and burned with a desire more intense than anything I had ever felt. I was already longing to touch myself, to roughly finger my sex and rub my throbbing clit.

"Mistress, when you say you're banning me from masturbating, do you mean I may not masturbate in your house or...."

Christina interrupted me and in response she said, "I mean anywhere. You may not masturbate in the shower or the in your bed at night or at a party. I want you to be in a state of perpetual sexual tension. And while I cannot monitor your behavior twenty-four hours a day, I expect you to be on the honor system while you are away from my home. Do you think you can be honest with me?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said, wondering if I would be able to obey this rule. My pussy was already aching with need. Could I really live my life without doing something to relieve the throbbing, urgent longing between my legs?

"Every time you enter my house, I'll ask you if you've masturbated at all in my absence," Christina informed me. "I'll expect you to tell me the truth. If I ever find out you've lied to me, the punishment will be far worse than if I find out that you fingered your pussy."

While I was allowing the enormity of that to sink in, Christina asked, "Gwendoline, have you ever had sex with another girl?"

"What? No, never," I said, shocked at the question, and then an instant later I remembered Christina's third rule and added, "Mistress".

"Oh my, you really are virginal," Christina observed. "Well, from now on all of your orgasms will come having sex with a girl. I suggest you prepare yourself for that."

"You're a lesbian?" I asked, feeling stupid for saying it, but somehow I had been too dense to infer it earlier.

"Of course I am," Claudia said boldly. "Why else do you think I wanted you naked? Do you have a problem with lesbians?"

Before I even had a chance to answer, Christina reached in between my legs and grabbed at my swollen, pink labia. I shuddered at her touch and then she then commented that I would be painfully punished if I ever said anything insulting or unflattering about lesbians.

And then as if to illustrate her point she pinched my labia again and again, causing me to whimper and squirm.

"No Mistress," I said, my voice sounding pathetic and on the verge of sobbing, "I don't have any problem with lesbians. I think they're wonderful people! I'd be honored to have sex with a lesbian!"

"That's good," Claudia said, releasing my labia from her painful grip. "Today you will get your wish. However you need to remain tied to that post for several hours first. I want you to be well acquainted with what it feels like to be naked, helpless and enslaved long before you ever find out what an orgasm feels like when it's delivered by a woman's tongue."

 And with that, she inserted two fingers deep inside of me and moved them around, probing every inch of me. She was forceful and insistent and I couldn't help but get more and more aroused as she explored my tight, wet hole with her fingers.

I struggled in vain against the ropes on my naked body and soon I was bathed in sweat and panting as Christina cruelly brought me to the edge of orgasm over and over, but slid her fingers out of my vaginal tunnel just as I was about to reach the point of no return.

Then Christina kissed me and went upstairs and closed the door. I heard her lock it, something that seemed unnecessary to me. Was I going to walk out of here if she left it unlocked?

I was alone. I was also naked and panting and tied helplessly to a large, wooden post, with my pussy obscenely exposed and I had no idea how long I was going to be here.

I continued to pant in sexual frustration, but insanely I was happy with the situation I had gotten myself into. I was naked. My wrists were tightly bound to iron rings. I stood and would continue to stand. There was nothing else I could do. It was exactly the sort of fate Cinderella's wicked stepsisters would inflict on poor Cinderella.

It was delicious and I was trembling with a yummy eroticism. To truly explore my condition I struggled with all my strength against the ropes holding my wrists and ankles. It was as though I dared them to hold me any longer. But they laughed at my brief frenzy, holding me with ease. When I desisted, I was panting and knew for sure I could never free myself. I settled down to stand out my penance while the joy of being thus subject to Christina's will seeped into every crevice of my being.

I had no way of knowing time, and Christina left me strictly alone. I think I passed my first hour very happily relishing in my own helplessness and nudity, my second with only slightly less sensuality. By the end of the third I was tired and wished I could lie down. After a couple more I was very tired indeed and wondering if Claudia gone off someplace to visit.

Most girls would have been terrified at this point and regretting terribly their decision to submit to Christina's terms, however I found myself positively elated at my current situation. My skin was sore where the ropes had bitten into my naked flesh and my shoulders and inner thigh muscles were aching from holding this awkward position for so many hours; however I was tingling with anticipation of what my mistress would do to me next and elated at my helplessness. I had fantasized for years of being made helpless, vulnerable and stripped naked by some cruel woman and now it had all come true! 

And then, just as I was thinking this I heard the door at the top of the stairs being unlocked. I raised my head and saw the door slowly open. Black leather boots appeared on the stairs and my breasts rose and fell as my breathing became labored. My heart was beating like a drum and I was overwhelmed by the powerful mix of emotions as my mistress slowly descended and sauntered over to my helpless, naked, young body.



Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 02



Most girls would have been terrified at this point and regretting terribly their decision to submit to Christina's terms, however I found myself positively elated at my current situation. My skin was sore where the ropes had bitten into my naked flesh and my shoulders and inner thigh muscles were aching from holding this awkward position for so many hours; however my puss was wet and I was tingling with anticipation of what my mistress would do to me next and elated at my helplessness. I had fantasized for years of being made helpless, vulnerable and stripped naked by some cruel woman and now it had all come true! 

And then, just as I was thinking this I heard the door at the top of the stairs being unlocked. I raised my head and saw the door slowly open. Black leather boots appeared on the stairs and my breasts rose and fell as my breathing became labored. My heart was beating like a drum and I was overwhelmed by the powerful mix of emotions as my mistress slowly descended and sauntered over to my helpless, naked, young body. My nipples were throbbing as she approached and I was vaguely aware that my indecently exposed sex was wet.

Christina took her time ambling over to me. I was her possession and she knew it, there was no reason for her to hurry.

Christina had brought water which I drank gratefully. My heart had been beating like a drum and my struggles had caused me to sweat. I had been down in the basement for hours like that and needed to have my fluids replaced. I finished my water than then my mistress set the empty glass on the wooden chest.

"Aren't you lucky?" Christina said as she lightly pinched both of my helpless nipples. "You have never been with another woman before, and now you've got me as a guide to escort you into the land of Sapphic love."

"Yes Mistress," I responded to her question.

Christina took the opportunity to kiss me, to fondle and to stroke, and to cup my wet pussy in her strong, authoritative hands. She made an inspection of the inner and outer folds of my vulva, making me moan in lust and frustration.

"Oh, Mistress," I moaned, certain that I was about to reach climax, however she took her fingers away from my throbbing sex before I had my orgasm.

"Upstairs," my mistress assured me. "The dungeon is not a place for slaves to have their orgasms."

I was released from the post and then Christina told me to turn around and hold still so that she could bind my wrists behind my back.

My arms and legs were shaky after hours of being tied to the post, but I obediently did as Christiana commanded. I felt lovely it felt to have Christina's hands touching me, and then to cross my wrists behind my back. It was even more thrilling when the cord bit tight as Christina wound the ropes around my wrists. I stood erect, breathing heavily, still somewhat ashamed of the juice that I could feel as it flowed from my sex. I stood in passive nudity as Christina rendered me helpless with tight ropes and impossible knots.

Christina tugged at the ropes and pulled each knot carefully tight, and then she examined the ropes carefully to discover any slight trace of slack that might be present. And then she knotted the final piece of rope with a satisfied, ""There".

Christina then patted my naked bottom and turned me around so we were face to face, "how does it feel?"

"Mistress, I feel so helpless," I said, "Helpless and excited I suppose".

Apparently that was the right answer, as Christina proceeded to kiss me fiercely and then she led me; naked and helpless; upstairs to her bedroom.

There was tightness in my throat and a stirring in my loins as Christina led me to her room with an authoritative grip on my bare arm. She stood me naked near the center of her room and looked my naked body up and down before saying, "Look at yourself in the mirror, Darling."

I was turned to face a full-length mirror saw a naked girl, her arms bound behind her back, her breasts arrogantly outthrust, her belly concave and reddish indentations in her naked skin where ropes had bit painfully into her ankles, waist and torso. I almost didn't recognize this naked girl as me.

"You look beautiful, Darling," Christina said to me and then kissed my cheek. A moment later two soft arms were around my naked body and Christina's eager lips found mine. Her lips were so soft, I almost forgot how harsh she could be, but then she took one of my nipples between her thumb and forefinger and pinched it painfully.

"Mistress," I cried out in shock.

"Just a reminder of how helpless you are," Christina replied. "If I truly wanted to hurt that bewitching body of yours, there's nothing you could do to stop me. I don't want you to somehow forget that just because we're having sex."

My nipple throbbed deliciously as Christina removed her boots and her yoga pants. Like mine, her sex was completely shaved. And also like mine, her pubic lips were slick with her womanly juices. Apparently abusing naked girls excited her as much as it excited me to be stripped naked and abused.

And once she was naked from the waist down, Christina stood before me and said, "Kneel at my feet, Darling."

It was hard without my hands, but asking for Christina to untie me would have ruined the mood.

Christina's womanhood tasted differently than I thought it would. She actually tasted kind of like wine, but not a bold, aromatic, pungent sort of wine, more like a mild, pleasing aroma. I could barely taste her at all.

I licked her from the bottom of her pink, swollen lips and dragged my tongue up, rubbing the underside of her clitoris on the way. I was so focused on her unexpected mild taste that I failed to notice that her breathing had gotten heavier and faster as I used my tongue on her pudendum. 

Christina taught me that it wasn't just about the licking. After I had gently pulled back the hood from her clitoris (using my tongue of course) she taught me how to gently trap her clit between my teeth and suck on it.

It was a delicate procedure, but Christina talked me through it and in the end, she had a lusty, powerful orgasm and got her juices all over my lips.

I remained on my knees while Christina came down from a powerful orgasm and slowly regulated her breathing from heavy panting down to something more standard.

"That was very good for a first time, Darling," my Mistress said as I looked up at her smiling face. "You have a natural affinity for pleasing a woman. I'm a lucky girl. I'm so glad that I found you."

I smiled at my mistress and I felt that I had somehow made quite a find as well. Kneeling naked at Christina's feet, her moist pubic lips inches from my face, my wrists bound helplessly behind my back I felt as if I had finally found my niche. My new status as Christina's sex-slave felt more fitting than any other position or role that I had ever been assigned in my entire life.

"We're both lucky, Mistress," I replied. 

Christina grabbed her leggings and her boots and got dressed, leaving me as the only naked person in the room. I had thought that with her own lust satisfied that she would then tend to the throbbing need in my own aching pussy; however she simply stood there and watched me intently.

"Mistress," I asked, barely able to hear my own tiny voice over the sound of my frantically beating heart, "Aren't you going to allow me to cum? I got so sexually worked up while you had me tied down in the basement. My pussy is absolutely screaming for some attention."

"Slave-girls get orgasms when their mistress deems that she's earned them," Christina explained to me. "They never ask for them. Asking for favors is considered presumptuous."

I whimpered at that, my pussy was absolutely aching with need, but I didn't argue. Being a slave-girl was more than just being naked around clothed people, there was a true commitment involved with being a slave-girl. Constant sacrifices were required to prove that the slave-girl was serious in her desire to serve her master or mistress.

Christina looked down at my naked body and looked quite superior in her stylish clothes. I wondered if she might simply send me home now that I'd eaten her to orgasm, but she still had uses for me.

She favored me with a carnivorous smile and said, "Alright Gwendoline, you look awfully helpless and abused right now, sort of like a political prisoner. I think it's time for an interrogation."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I was naked and my wrists were tied behind my back. What was I going to do other than agree? It wasn't like I could just walk right out of her house.

"I already know that you've never had sex with a woman before," she said, "But what about men?"

"No, Mistress," I admitted. "I've never had sex with anyone-at least not until today."

"Wow, I really did get a virgin," she said, sounding somewhat incredulous, "How about masturbation?"

"You said I'm not allowed to masturbate anymore," I replied.

"At what age did you start masturbating," she said, clarifying the question.

"I suppose around age fourteen."

"And how many times a day did you masturbate?"

I had to think about that one. "It varies, I suppose between one and four times a day. Some days I get more worked up than others."

"And what sort of things would get you worked up enough to make your masturbate four times in the same day?"

That hungry expression on her face seemed to intensify and I became all the more aware of how naked I was. "Well," I explained, "Back when I was in high school I was on the cheerleading squad for a while. I was good looking enough, but not so good with choreography. Our squad leader wasn't too happy with how slow I was to learn new routines and one day she threatened to pin me to the ground and strip me naked in front of the vice principal."

"And that excited you?"

"Well, yes," I replied, totally embarrassed.

"Why did it excite you when this girl threatened to strip you naked in front of your vice principal?"

"Several reasons," I replied, "The first I suppose simply being overpowered. Our squad leader was a strong girl. I knew she could easily pin me to the ground and hold me there helpless while she ripped off my clothes, if that's what she wanted to do. There'd be no way I could possibly stop her."

"So, you get excited at the thought of being physically overpowered and helpless; what else?"

"Well, being naked in front of the vice principal; first of all it's humiliating to be forced into showing my naked body, being undressed against my will in public, but somehow it's even more humiliating to expose my naked body to somebody her age. You see Vice Principal Murray is in her mid-thirties. She's probably old enough to be my mother."

"You're saying that if I forced you to be naked in front of an older woman, it would be more humiliating than if you were forced to be naked in front of a girl your own age?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied.

"Oh, you do give me ideas," Christina said. "Is there any other reason that being stripped in front of your vice principal would excite you?"

My heart beat fast just thinking about the prospect of being helpless and forcibly stripped in front of my old high school principal as I tried to formulate an answer to Christina's question. 

"Well, she's an authority figure. I always feel more submissive in the presence of an authority figure; teachers, principals, police officers, TSA agents; they all sort of make me feel intimidated. And of course if she really were a lesbian that would mean that she'd get some sort of lecherous thrill from looking at my naked body. It'd make the whole thing even more humiliating and demeaning."

"So, just to paraphrase," Christina said, "You find it exciting to be physically overpowered, forcibly stripped, humiliated and made to display your naked body in front of lesbians, authority figures and women who are old enough to be your mother."

I felt frightened about where this line of questioning was going, but I swallowed and answered her question anyway, "Yes, Mistress."

"I think I may be able to accommodate your wonderful libido," Christina said as she bent over and took one of my erect nipples between her thumb and forefinger. Her strong fingers were gentle at first, but she gradually increased the pressure on my swollen, sensitive nipple until I was whimpering in pain.

And while I was panting and whimpering, Christina continued to play with my poor, captive nipple and asked, "Are there any other kinky sexual fantasies I should know about?"

Of course there were others, there were too many to count. I blurted out fantasies as quickly as I could remember them and as fast as I could get them out of my mouth. I told her about my fantasy of being at the airport and strip-searched by TSA agents after setting off the airport metal detector and then being forced to submit to a body cavity search.

I told her my fantasy about a wooded area near Fair Oaks that I used to hike in despite the fact that "No Trespassing" signs are posted everywhere. I would sometimes fantasize that I would be caught trespassing and the woman who owns the land wouldn't call the cops, but would force me to strip naked and tie me to a tree and leave me there for hours. Sometimes in my fantasy she would rub sunscreen into every inch of my naked skin, getting me all aroused, but never allowing me to climax. Other times I would fantasize that she had a sadistic daughter who could delight in my naked helplessness and smear honey onto my breasts and pubic lips, attracting bees and causing them to land on my naked flesh and lick the honey off of me.

I told her my fantasies about being Cinderella and how my evil step-sisters and cruel step mother would strip me naked and torment me in a variety of different ways, sometimes involving the stiff bristles of a broom or a scrub brush against my soft, sensitive pubic lips while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor.

There was also a harsh, arrogant customer at the bank named Susan Straff. Apparently her son had been dating some girl that she didn't approve of, because I remember one day she was yelling at a girl in the lobby and said that if she didn't stop coming around to her house and "seducing" her son that she'd take the poor girl out to the stables and horse-whip her. Most of the bank employees were horrified that Mrs. Straff would speak to anybody like that, but I ended up having fantasies about Mrs. Straff stripping me naked, taking me out to the stables, tying up my wrists high above my head and whipping me with a riding crop or a buggy-whip.

There were other fantasies and while Christina kept toying with my nipple; sometimes gently, sometimes painfully; until I'd told her every sexual fantasy I could remember ever experiencing.

"Are you sure you're not a lesbian?" Christina asked me when I finally finished, "Every single fantasy of yours seems to have a domineering woman in a central role; a cruel step-mother, a female TSA Agent, a nun with a ruler, wicked step-sisters...you don't seem to fantasize about men ever."

I hadn't really considered myself a lesbian until Christina brought up her question. I thought of my fantasies as "damsel in distress" sort of fantasies. The important thing was that I was abused and helpless in them. I never put a great deal of thought into who was inflicting the abuse upon me, however when Christina forced me to examine those fantasies I had to admit, it was always a woman who tormented and violated me.

"Not one-hundred percent sure, Mistress," I replied. "My desire to be stripped and helpless and punished made me odd enough. I never considered the idea that I might be abnormal in other ways as well."

Suddenly a sharp, biting pain in my nipple caused me to flinch and cry out in pain. Christina had dug her fingernails deep into my sensitive pink nipple and twisted, inflicting horrible pain on my poor little swollen nub.

"A little piece of free advice," Christina said calmly after I'd finished whimpering and wailing, "When talking to a lesbian, never refer to homosexuality as abnormal."

My body was still in shock, but somehow I panted out the words, "Sorry, Mistress."

"Apology accepted," Christina said graciously, "although I'll still have to punish you for what you've said. It will help you to remember not to say anything like that in the future."

I opened my mouth to protest, but then I realized that this punishment would be important for both of us. This punishment for a mere poor choice of words would be unfair, but unfair was exactly what I had been looking for nearly my entire life. I had found my cruel step-sister and I wasn't going to object now that she was fulfilling the role of being cruel.

Christina went over to her nightstand and took her time extracting a few things from a drawer. When she came back she set the items on the floor, at my knees and ignored them for a few seconds paying attention instead to my outthrust breasts, teasing and rubbing my nipples, making me pant as my sexual arousal went through the roof.

Then; once my nipples were swollen and enlarged and fully erect; she picked up her toys off the floor. There were two shiny, metal things with angry-looking jaws. 

"These are called nipple clamps," Claudia explained, using her thumb and forefinger to cause one of the jaws to open wide. l breathed heavily as Christina slowly brought the metal device over to my left nipple and prepared to clamp in onto my sensitive, swollen flesh.

When the metal jaws bit down hard into my soft pink flesh, the pain was as sharp as being stung by a wasp. And I was so focused on the pain in my left nipple that when Christina took another nipple clamp and had it bite down on the flesh of my right nipple, it caught me totally by surprise.

Both of my nipples were throbbing in pain and then Christina showed me the nylon cords that were attached to the nipple clamps. I was informed that she intended to use those nylon cords as a leash. She tugged playfully and said, "Stand up, Darling dear, I'll show you how this works."

Getting up from the kneeling position without the use of my hands was difficult; however the sharp pain in my nipples every time she tugged was a huge motivator. I obediently followed her anywhere she led me with that leash of hers.

My poor abused nipples throbbed as Christina led me across the room and eventually I was made to stand in a corner. I whimpered as Christina raised one end of the leash and attached it to a metal ring that was about fourteen inches above my head. 

"You'll stand in that corner until I tell you otherwise," Christina said, "Unless you think you can get free."

My nipples were suffering horribly just standing there. I couldn't imagine struggling to get free from the leash. The pain of pulling against the nipple clamps would almost certainly be severe enough to cause me to pass out.

"I'll stand in the corner, Mistress," I said in surrender.

"Good girl," Christina said, and then she patted me affectionately on my bare bottom and walked out of the room.

I had no idea how long Christina intended to keep me like this. My head hung low and my entire focus narrowed to my round bare breasts, my poor captive nipples and the cruel metal jaws that were biting into them.

The less I moved, the less my nipples hurt. Therefore I learned to minimize movement as much as possible. I let my arms and shoulders relax and didn't struggle against the ropes tied around my wrists. I stood straight and didn't slouch and I kept my weight evenly distributed on my right and left foot. I even slowed down my breathing as big gulps of air caused my chest to heave and a heaving chest meant those cruel metal clamps would tug on my poor hurting nipples.

In all of my fantasies about poor Cinderella being abused by her wicked step-sisters I had never envisioned this particular sort of bondage. Apparently Christina's imagination was more fertile than mine. I had known that you could tie a girl's wrists or ankles, but it never occurred to me that you could bind her nipples as well. This was a new and unexpected sort of bondage for me.




Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 02



As I stood there in the corner and remained still, the pain in my nipples decreased. Instead of a sharp, insistent throbbing pain, my nipples eventually suffered only a dull ache. I was grateful for the lessening in pain; however I wondered how long Christina intended to leave me here in this position. I couldn't stand like this forever.

Eventually as I grew accustomed to the things clamped onto my poor nipples, it occurred to me that I was being punished like a child, being made to stand in the corner like this. Was that deliberate on Christina's part? Did she want to strip me of my dignity by treating me like a child? 
I had no clock and no wristwatch to keep track of the time, and my wrists were bound behind my back, so a wristwatch wouldn't have done me any good anyway. Anyway my point is I had no idea how long Christina made me stand there in the corner. I tried counting down the seconds, but I lost track after one-thousand.

Finally, after what seemed like hours standing there in the corner, staring down at my poor, abused captive nipples, I heard Christina's unhurried footsteps as she entered the room.

"How are we getting along, Darling?" I heard Christina ask from somewhere behind me.

Still staring down at my poor, clamped nipples I replied, "Oh Mistress, please let my loose! I promise I'll never say anything derogatory about lesbians ever again!"

"Well, it sounds like you've learned your lesson," Christina said, speaking very much in the way a mother would speak to a penitent child, "And since you're being a good girl, I suppose I can give you that orgasm that you were asking for earlier."

Suddenly Christina's hands were on my naked flesh. First they were on the tense muscles of my back, then they trailed down slowly to my naked buttocks, cupping and fondling them, then she reached in between my thighs and gently stroked my slick, swollen pubic lip, causing me to gasp. Without even thinking, my breathing quickened as Christina's hands freely roamed across my naked body and then finally she opened my vulva and her fingers entered me, questing, moving, clenching and exploring.

Suddenly the implication of what she was saying hit me. My nipples were still clamped in those unforgiving metal jaws! I had to keep very still in order to keep those clamps from pulling on my sensitive flesh and turning the dull ache in my nipples into a sharp, throbbing agony, and if Christina brought me to an orgasm now I'd be thrashing and writhing and panting! I knew my own body and I was incapable of remaining still during an orgasm!

I whimpered as Christina's skilled finger expertly probed my hungry sex. I tried to remain still, but my legs trembled and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other as Christina's strong fingers thrust deeply and I felt knuckles as her fingers clenched end extended and flexed and thrust again. She owned by pussy in a way that I never had. She knew exactly where to touch me and how much pressure to apply to drive my lust to feverish levels. Her fingers stroked me deep inside, in a bold, masterful way that was superior to the way that I normally stroked myself. 

My nipples were in distress as I panted my way towards orgasm and my breasts heaved up and down, making the metal clamps wobble, however the throbbing pain in my poor nipples only seemed to heighten my lust.

I sucked air in through my teeth and tears welled up in my eyes as the nipple clamps seemed to bite my sore nipples even harder, and then Christina brought her other hand between my legs and used it to play with my pussy as well, eventually finding my swollen clit.

Without thinking I spread my legs wider and Christina began to rub my swollen clit with her thumb. I moaned and stamped my bare feet as Christina's cunning hands drove me closer and closer to orgasm. I had actually pinched my own nipple many times while fingering my own pussy, however I was never this brutal to them, and I always let up when the pain got too intense. What Christina was forcing my nipples to endure was far more painful and vicious than anything I'd ever inflicted on my poor nipples myself.

A powerful orgasmic wave ripped through me as Christina's fingers stabbed deep into my pink sex with one hand and mercilessly toyed with my clit with the other. I screamed, writhed, and shook my head from side to side and hot wet tears slid down face as the pain in my nipples seemed to triple. I instinctively struggled against the ropes on my wrists, desperate to protect my poor, abused nipples, but the ropes were much too strong for me to defeat. 

Despite the pain to my already-sore nipples, I found myself thrusting my hips, meeting Christina's fingers as she thrust them into me. I was covered in sweat and suffering horrible pain, but my body seemed to have a mind of its own and my hips went into spasms, reveling in the orgasm that it had been denied all day.

I panted and gasped and savored the powerful orgasm, and as my thighs trembled and my knees started to buckle, I very nearly collapsed onto the floor, however Christina removed her hands from my throbbing sex and wrapped one strong arm around my waist and another strong arm around my torso, keeping me from falling and protecting my poor nipples from having those horrible metal jaws ripped from sensitive pink nubs.

Christina stood behind me and held my sweat-drenched nudity close; much like a protective mother would hold a child. It wasn't until Christina reached up to my nipples and released my poor tortured nipples from those tight metal jaws that I stopped thinking of her grasp as protective or maternal.

I didn't know a lot about nipple clamps, but apparently they hurt a lot worse when they come off, compared to how much they hurt when they're clamped on.

I whimpered and whined and panted as blood flowed back into my poor, abused nipples and many, many nerve endings in that intimate part of my anatomy suddenly came alive with intense pain. I desperately wanted to rub my poor, aching nipples, but my arms were bound behind my back, so that was impossible. 

"Oh God, oh aaarrrggghhh oh gaaaaahhhhhg," I screamed as liquid fire seemed to rush into my nipples consuming them with the most intense pain a girl has ever known.

At some point I ended up on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with my torso across Christina's lap. My poor abused nipples were still throbbing in agony, but a sense of euphoria had washed over me in the aftermath of the most delicious orgasm of my life. I'd fingered my own pussy thousands of times, but never had I managed an orgasm that intense all on my own. Christina had given me a mouth-watering sexual experience of a sort that I had never even thought possible.

"Oh, my poor nipples," I complained as I glanced down at my breasts and saw that my nipples were far redder than usual, unusually swollen, erect and enlarged. There were still indentations in them from where the clamps had bitten into them, "Did you have to be so cruel to them?"

"Of course," Christina said without the tiniest trace of sympathy in her voice. "The step mother wouldn't have shown any restraint when abusing Cinderella. Why should I show any restraint when abusing you? After years of fantasizing about being Cinderella and being abused by a wicked step mother, you deserve to find out exactly what it would really be like. I'm going to give you the full Cinderella experience."

I whimpered and trembled at Christina's words, but the way she spoke to me actually made me all hot and tingly inside. 

I was naked and bound and Christina had every intention of taking advantage of my helpless, nude body. She was the wicked stepmother come to life.

"From now on," Christina informed me, "You can expect to earn all of your orgasms. They'll be hard won prizes, earned through obedience, pain and humiliation. You'll suffer, but your suffering will make the orgasms all the more intense and exquisite."

In response to her words, I spread my legs much wider, making my shaved sex much more vulnerable and prominent. Christina's words made me want to be as defenseless and vulnerable as possible. Cinderella would always be made helpless by her wicked stepmother, so I wanted to be helpless and exposed as possible for Christina. I wanted to be a naked, female victim at her mercy.

Christina seemed to take the hint and reached down between my legs and cruelly pinched my swollen labia, eliciting a surprised yelp from me. I reflexively closed my legs together, but Christina scolded me and said, "Open your legs again. You should always keep your sex as exposed and available as possible for your mistress."

With a sense of foreboding and trepidation I reluctantly spread my thighs apart for Christina. With my legs spread wide, I felt very defenseless and vulnerable. Christina could do any number of cruel, painful things to my poor, defenseless pubic lips.

Christina reached between my legs again, but this time she gently stroked and kneaded my moist, swollen labia, making me moan. I had just had a powerful orgasm, but her fingers were already making me hungry for another one.

"Oh, Mistress," I moaned and obediently kept my legs spread obscenely far apart. Christina's masterful fingers took full advantage of my vulnerable position and I felt like a virgin sacrifice being raped. Soon I was panting deliciously and on the verge of another frenzied, delirious orgasm, but just a heartbeat or two before the powerful climax erupted, Christina removed her hand and wiped my juices off of her fingers with a hand towel.

I continued to lie there with my legs wantonly spread apart and waited for the continued attentions of Christina's competent fingers on my sex. My legs remained spread wide, but my back arched and my buttocks lifted up off the floor as if my pelvis were seeking Christina's fingers or begging them to come back.

My great disappointment and confusion I said, "Mistress?"

"I'm so sorry, Darling," Christina said, "But your appointment for today was for 8:00 am to 5:00 pm, and it's now 5:07. I've already kept you for seven minutes too long."

The throbbing in my sex was still insistent. I couldn't possibly be expected to just leave while my swollen, excited clit was begging for attention. I desperately needed Christina to finish the erotic task that she had started. "Mistress," I began, hoping that I could entice Christina to bring me to orgasm again and save me from my sexual distress.

"I suppose I'll just have to let you go home seven minutes early tomorrow," Christina said, ignoring my appeal and the pathetic look on my face.

"But, Mistress, please," I tried again, but she just rolled me over and began to untie my wrists. With my ropes gone, I was just a sexually frustrated, naked girl with rope burns on her skin.

"Schedules are terribly important," Christina explained to me. "They keep us organized. When you're older, you'll understand."

I felt bewildered and cheated as Christina walked me downstairs and into the kitchen. My legs were wobbly and I had trouble maintaining my balance, but Christina followed me closely and kept me from falling down.

"Time for you to get dressed now, Dear," Christina said when I was standing in front of the chair where I had piled all of my clothes. When I just stood there, staring at them Christina smacked me on my naked buttocks and said, "Come on now, we both have things to do. You can't just stand around in my kitchen all day."

I picked up my tiny panties and reluctantly stepped into them. My sex was still throbbing and in need of attention. I was aghast at being sent home before my sexual need had been satisfied.

I got dressed and Christina ushered me outside and closed the door behind me. I felt rejected and desperately wanted to knock on the door and beg for Christina to let me back in, but I knew that would be fruitless. She wasn't the sort of woman to be swayed by girlish pleading.

I made my way back to my apartment building and found that my roommate wasn't home. Technically I could have locked myself in my room and fingered myself to orgasm and this throbbing need in between my legs would be dealt with; however Christina had forbade me to masturbate even in the privacy of my own home. Of course there's no way Christina had no way of knowing what I did in the privacy of my own room, however if I started lying to her and disrespecting her authority it would defile everything that was special and unique in my relationship with her.

I resolved to obey Christina's orders even if it meant that I would have to suffer and be denied the orgasm that my hungry sex so desperately needed.

When I got to the bathroom I took off my clothes and examined my nipples in the mirror. They were still swollen and sensitive, however their color had returned to normal. Apparently the nipple clamps hadn't done any long-term damage.

I turned on the water in the shower and washed up. I had sweated profusely while struggling against Christina's ropes and while I was made to stand in the corner. I washed the scent of my own sweat off my naked body and gently rubbed my poor, abused nipples. They were tender and sensitive to my touch at first, but I rubbed most of the pain out of them while I showered. 

There was an urgent need in between my legs and it took every ounce of self-discipline that I had not to finger myself into a screaming orgasm. The aching desire in my pussy was intense, and I really, really wanted to pleasure myself, but Christina had put that on the forbidden list, so I resolved to follow her dictates and ignore my urgent screaming libido.

After my shower I grabbed something to eat out of the fridge, poured myself a glass of wine, put on a robe and turned on the TV. I decided to find the most boring thing on TV that I could find in hopes that something mind-numbingly boring could kill my sex drive. 

After flipping up and down the channels I eventually found live coverage of the California State Legislature debating a bill that would regulate California's groundwater supplies. The people debating the bill were all grey-haired, unattractive white men with droning voices and their arguments both for and against regulation were uninspired and boring.

I drank my wine, ate my egg rolls and watched those boring old men and I had very nearly been successful in killing the insistent throb between my legs, but then my roommate Julie came home.

"Gwen, you're home," Julie said by way of greeting.

"Hi, Julie," I said back and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was much more interesting than the officious old men in the California State Legislature. She took off her high-heeled shoes, poured herself a glass of wine and gracefully sauntered over where I was sitting.

I had never really thought of Julie as sexy before, but after the way Christina had inflamed my libido today, almost anybody could look sexy to me. Julie was very fit, with a flat stomach and legs like a dancer. Her breasts were rather small, but firm and she had good muscle-tone, high cheek bones and a pretty face. And as she walked past me and in front of the TV set I couldn't help but notice that her jeans were ridiculously tight and her jeans did absolutely nothing to conceal the shape of her very cute, very firm ass.

I had never had sexual thoughts about Julie before, but Christina had turned me into a libidinous wench. Because of what Christina had done to me, sex was never far from my mind.

"What are you watching?" Julie asked as she stood in front of the TV screen, giving me a perfect view of her high, firm buttocks and her incredible thighs. Suddenly I wanted to touch her. For the first time in my life I found myself desiring Julie's flesh. I wanted to press myself against her and feel her warm skin underneath my hands and against my face.

"Um, I dunno," I said. "I was just channel surfing and this is where I ended up when I stopped pressing buttons."

"Oh good," Julie replied, looking over her shoulder and smiling at me. "For a second there I was afraid you'd turned into a policy wonk."

Julie then proceeded to sit down next to me on the couch and took the remote from my hand. She sat close enough that her arm was pressed up against mine. I liked the feel of her pressed against me, but the problem was that I liked it too much. I really wanted her to touch me much more intently. My whole body was craving human contact.

Then, as if Julie were trying to stir up my libido, she flipped through the channels until she found a movie called "Gotcha!" This turned out to be a spy/comedy/thriller movie with Linda Fiorentino as a CIA covert agent. She had several nude scenes in this movie, including one where she's strip-searched by a stern East German woman.

The strip-search scene only lasted a few seconds, but just seeing Linda Fiorentino naked with that wounded and violated look on her face after an austere East German policewoman had stripped her naked (and no doubt performed a body cavity search on her), got me all hot and feverish and I ended up squirming on my seat and fighting not to whimper.

Julie noticed me squirming and asked me if I was okay. What could I tell her? Could I tell her that I got hot and bothered watching Linda Fiorentino being strip-searched by a cold, officious police woman? Could I tell her that I would really love it if Julie role-played a stern East German policewoman and ordered me to submit to a strip-search?

"My um doctor put me on a new medication," I told Julie, coming up with the best lie I could on short notice, "It sometimes has side-effects. I can make you jumpy, restless, sensitive...that sort of thing."

"Wow," Julie said, "Well I hope you don't have to stay on it for long. I think it's making you sweat too."

I wiped my brow and realized Julie was right. I was so feverish with lust that I was sweating. "I'll be okay," I assured Julie. "I probably just need something cold."

I got up off the couch and went to the kitchen with Julie watching me every step of the way. She seemed surprised when I opened up the freezer door, grabbed and ice cube and started rubbing it across my forehead, my throat, the back of my neck and across the skin just slightly above my breasts.

It helped to relieve the feelings of sexual feverishness, but I felt awkward and uncomfortable with Julie giving me that look like I'd just lost my mind.

"I'll be just fine," I said to Julie, and I tried to sound convincing, but I really don't think Julie accepted my claim as credible.

We drank more wine, finished watching the movie and Julie went to her room to work on a homework assignment, while I went to bed. I was still too worked up to fall asleep, so I took a Benadryl to help knock me out. 

I had a big day tomorrow. I had to be at Christina's house by 8:00 am tomorrow and naked by 8:01 am. And she had promised to be cruel and abusive and basically be the wicked step-mother I had always dreamed of. If I was going to have a grueling, demanding day like that tomorrow, I was going to need to get plenty of sleep tonight.



Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 03



Sunday morning, I woke up ridiculously early and started to get ready even before the sun came up. I did some stretching exercises, went for a four-mile run, showered, shampooed, shaved (taking special care with my pubic area to make absolutely certain there was no stubble or stray pubic hair left behind), got dressed and ate breakfast before I went over to Christina's house. 

When I got there I was still early, even though I had spent so much time getting ready. 

I admit it, I was really excited. I had spent so many years fantasizing about having somebody to tie me up and abuse me and cause me physical pain. Now that I actually had somebody like that, I couldn't stop thinking about her. 

My heart was pounding like a drum and my panties were already soaking wet when I knocked on the front door to Christina's home. I didn't know exactly what horrible hate she had planned for me today, but I was just brimming with anticipation to be her poor, abused damsel and endure whatever she had in mind. 

My heart actually seemed to beat louder as I waited for Christina to answer the door. The fear of the unknown heightened my excitement. What would Christina do to me today? She had hinted that there were many things that she hadn't tried out on me yet, and I was a willing victim, so I was giving her unlimited opportunities to try things out on my naked, helpless body. 

When the door finally opened it only opened a few inches and Christina's face didn't appear in the doorway. 

I found this to be confusing, but I heard Christina's voice coming from somewhere inside the house saying, "Come inside Gwen. Enter freely and of your own will." 

I felt distinctly as if Christina was playing some sort of game and no one had explained the rules to me, however she had said to come inside, so I pushed the door open the rest of the way and took three steps forward and entered Christina's home. 

I closed the door behind me and expected that I would see Christina in front of me, however instead of Christina's familiar face; I saw the face of Vice Principal Murray. For a few mind-bending seconds I thought I must have somehow ended up in the wrong house. I froze and attempted to make sense of how I ended up standing in front of the woman who was my high school vice principal instead of standing in front of my dominant lesbian lover. 

And while I was frozen and paralyzed with confusion, somebody grabbed my wrist from behind and yanked it quite forcefully up behind my back, painfully stretching my pectoral muscles and the left shoulder joint to their absolute limit. Whoever had my arm they were hurting me quite acutely and I feared they might dislocate my shoulder. 

I whimpered and arched my back and raised myself up on the balls of my feet. "Aaaugh, please! That hurts," I exclaimed. "What do you want?" 

"This is called a chicken-wing hold," explained a female voice from directly behind me. "With very little effort I can use this hold to cause a lot more pain than you're currently feeling. Would you like me to demonstrate?" 

My shoulder felt like it was on fire. I was worried that this woman might cause permanent injury if she yanked my arm any further than she'd already yanked it. I think my wrist ended up somewhere between my shoulder-blades, so in between panting and grunting, I managed to get out the words, "No! Please!" 

"Then don't struggle and cooperate fully," the female voice said. 

"I won't struggle," I replied passively. "I'll do whatever you want." 

"Hold still," said the female voice and I attempted to do exactly that. While I was attempting to hold still; with my back arched and my arm twisted behind me at a painfully awkward angle; a woman's hand reached around and began to unbutton the buttons on the front of my shirtdress. 

Using only one hand, unbuttoning the front of my dress was slow and awkward and involved a great deal of the heel and palm of the woman's right hand pressing painfully into my right breast. 

Undoing the second button was also slow and awkward, and my back was so extremely arched that I was looking straight up at the ceiling. 

After she undid my fourth button, she reached for my belt buckle and unbuckled my belt. It was difficult for her to do one-handed, but once she'd accomplished it she allowed my belt to drop to the floor without ceremony. 

After fiddling with the fifth button for several minutes and failing to get it undone, the woman behind me said, "Lydia, could you help me undress her? It's really hard to keep her in this wrestling-hold and get her out of her clothes at the same time." 

My high-school vice principal advanced on me and I groaned at the thought of her hands on my defenseless body. "But of course," Vice Principal Murray said as she grabbed the front of my dress, "It'll be fun." 

Since she had the advantage of two hands, she managed to undo the last give buttons with no difficulty. She then opened up the fabric of my dress wide and was rewarded with an unobstructed view of my bra and panties. 

"When I see a cute girl like you, Gwen, I quite often wonder what sort of panties she's wearing underneath her clothes," Vice-Principal Murray informed me, in a conversational tone. "Yours are rather cute, although white isn't really your color. Only innocent girls should wear white, and you're hardly innocent. You're sending out a dishonest message to me with those white panties." 

I was still in a lot of pain because of the way my arm was twisted behind my back and I was humiliated at the way my vice-principal was staring out my nearly naked body, however I was able to reply, "I never thought that you'd ever see them, ma'am."   

"Of course they're very small and high-cut. I like that. They expose a lot of flesh, and you're a very beautiful girl. Girls as adorable as you should expose as much flesh as possible. It's a public service to those of us who live around you." 

"Please, Ma'am," I said, filled with apprehension and dread, "Don't do this. It would be really humiliating to be stripped by an administrator from my old high-school. You have no idea how demeaning it would be. It would be shaming even if a stranger stripped me naked, but to have somebody who was an authority figure of my school strip me, the emotional impact would be crushing." 

Vice-Principal Murray gently stroked my upturned face and throat and said, "That was very articulate, Gwen. You've explained your position quite well. You should have been on the high-school debate team." 

And then she reached for my breasts, briefly fondled them, getting my nipples hard and erect and then she found the catch between my bra cups and unfastened it. And just like that my bra fell away and my breasts were naked and exposed to Vice-Principal Murray's eyes. 

It was embarrassing to have this woman ogling my naked breasts. She was probably old enough to be my mother, and she was an authority figure at my old school to boot. This was far more embarrassing than having Christina see me naked. 

"Your breasts don't droop or sag at all," Vice-Principal Murray enthused, "You must be so proud! They're absolutely darling!!" 

And while I was feeling feverish with the shame of my old school administrator ogling my naked breasts, she and the nameless woman conspired to get me out of my dress. The nameless woman temporarily removed her iron grip from my wrist and the two women slid my dress off of my shoulders, leaving me clad in only my panties and my high-heeled shoes. 

I barely had time to register the fact that I had both arms free before the girl behind me thrust her arms underneath my armpits and behind the back of my neck. She firmly clasped both of her hands behind my neck and in front of my shoulders, forcing my neck forward and my shoulders back and raising my arms above my head. 

"This is called a full nelson," the woman with the strong hands explained. "With this I control your neck and your shoulders. That means you're not going anywhere. I've got you completely in my control." 

I looked down at my naked breasts and the high-cut panties that just barely concealed my loins. I desperately wanted to keep those panties on and I begged the school administrator to allow me to keep them on and explained how humbling it would be for me to lose them. 

"This isn't supposed to be easy for you," Vice-Principal Murray calmly informed me. "You're being broken in as Christina's slave-girl. You're supposed to be humbled and humiliated." 

Then she inserted a finger into my lycra panties, making contact with my skin and sliding the fabric of the extremely tight material slightly down my hips. Then with her other hand, she lifted my chin slightly so that she and I could make eye contact. I didn't like the way he looked at me. Icy shivers ran down my spine and I feared the touch of those strong, confident, authoritative, lesbian hands. 

My eyes welled up with tears and I felt cold dread as I realized there was no one and nothing out there to spare me from this indignity. The older woman pulled my panties down to my thighs and I heard her gasp of pleasure at what she has uncovered. 

"How wonderful," she gushed, "I had no idea that you would be shaved down there. Your pubic lips look so vulnerable and darling without any pubic hair to cover them. When did you start shaving?" 

I was too traumatized to answer. But then I heard Christina's voice. Apparently she was standing in the living room, perhaps fifty feet behind Vice-Principal Murray. 

"Answer her," Christina demanded. "Lydia is a guest in my home. I expect you to treat her with respect and tractability". 

Upon hearing the voice of my mistress, I knew I would have to obey. Her voice is unlike any other I've heard in my life. It compels me to obedience every time. I resigned myself to my fate, inhaled deeply and let my breath out slowly and replied, "I've been shaving since I was sixteen years old, Ma'am." 

"How darling," the older woman exclaimed. Then she pulled my panties all the way down to my ankles and removed my shoes before stripping me of my panties completely. 

And then without so much as a word of warning, this woman reached between my legs and cupped my pussy in her hand. I whimpered when her hand touched that most intimate of my treasures. I might no longer be a teenager in high school, but somehow it just seemed a dozen kinds of wrong for any administrator from my old high school to be fondling my naked pussy. 

"Christina, she's absolutely soaking wet. What have you done to the poor dear to make her so aroused?" 

I whimpered with embarrassment. It is absolutely too degrading for this older woman to examine my pussy and talk about how wet I've become. I thought I understood humiliation before, but I had just the barest tastes of it yesterday. Now I had a much better idea what an entire entrée of humiliation would taste like. 

"I banned her from masturbating," Christina replied, "But first I stirred up her libido. She really craves being helpless and abused and I introduced her to that yesterday." 

They were talking about me as if I wasn't even there, and the girl behind me had trapped me in some sort of wresting hold so I couldn't move my arms or neck and of course I was naked and exposed to three clothed women. Because of my submissive nature I couldn't help but be sexually aroused. I just cursed my luck that an administrator from my old high school was here to see it. 

"Christina, you're taking advantage of the poor confused girl, how can you be so cruel?" 

"She craves the abuse," was Christina's response. "It's to her advantage if I treat her with cruelty. She's been deprived of it her whole life and she needs it. She can only achieve true sexual gratification through physical abuse and humiliation, and apparently I'm the first and only person to give those things to her." 

Vice Principal Lewis laughed at this and said, "You make it sounds is if the poor girl has been malnourished." 

"In a way she has," Christina said contemplatively, "At any rate, we've unwrapped your present. You may as well play with it now. 

In response to those words, Vice Principal Murray ran her hands all over my naked flesh. She fondled my breasts with both hands and set me to panting when she repeatedly brushed her thumbs over my already-erect nipples. The wrestling hold I was trapped in forced my shoulders back and thus forced my breasts forward and made themselves inviting targets for Vice Principal Murray's hands. 

Of course the older woman wasn't content to just fondle my breasts. She cupped my breasts, rubbed my nipples, pinched my nipples, pulled on my nipples and got them insanely wet by kissing and sucking on them. She also ran her hands across my ribcage, across my concave belly, inside softness of my thighs and across the slick, swollen folds of my labia before finally separating my pubic lips and thrusting a demanding finger inside my heated sex. 

I moaned and whimpered at the intrusion of the older woman's finger deep inside the most intimate and secretive part of my anatomy. 

"Oh, God, Christina," I pleaded, filled with dread that this older woman might actually finger me to an orgasm. I desperately needed to climax, but to achieve sexual gratification from this woman who was old enough to be my mother just seemed extremely creepy and very nearly incestuous. 

Christina took no heed of the panic in my voice and instead responded, "What did you call me?" 

The finger was still deep inside my tender orifice, so it made it hard to think, but I soon realized the error of my ways. "Mistress," I exclaimed, "Sorry, I meant to call you Mistress!" 

Christina sighed lightly and said, "It doesn't matter what you meant to say. You've broken one of my rules and you'll have to be punished for it. " 

Then, to add to my shame and make me feverish with humiliation, she said, "Lydia, would you like to stay and watch when I spank Gwendoline?" 

Time seemed to stop for several seconds as I hoped and prayed that Vice Principal Murray would say "no". It was humiliating enough to be naked and groped and fingered by this woman, but if she were to see me get spanked like a disobedient child, I might actually die of humiliation! 

And when time started up again, Vice-Principal Murray smiled brightly and said, "Christina, I'd be honored. It will be a pleasure to watch the poor girl get what's coming to her!" 

I moaned miserably at her words and then she said, "Lindsay, I'd like to get a look at her bottom before it gets spanked. Could you turn her around for me?" 

The girl who had trapped my upper body in a full nelson suddenly released me from the wrestling hold and grabbed a handful of my long, blonde hair. "This gives me control, pretty girl," the girl said, "Want to test it?" 

It felt as if she was going to rip out my entire scalp, and at any rate I was there to be submissive, not to revolt. 

"No, I'm not going to be silly," I replied through clenched teeth. "You've got control." 

The girl named Lindsay gave my hank of hair an admonitory tug and forced me to turn around and display my bare bottom to Vice Principal Lewis. 

"Keep your hands away from your body," Lindsay ordered. I rested my hands against the wall in front of me. That seemed to satisfy her. 

"Gwen, you're bottom is absolutely perfect," gushed Vice-Principal Lewis. Suddenly her hands were on my perfect bottom, fondling it, pinching it, squeezing each buttock, running a finger down the crease in between and even stroking my anus. 

"Your bottom is so high and firm and smooth," Vice Principal Lewis said. "You should always dress in something that shows your bottom off. That shirtdress didn't help you display your assets at all. You should be dressing in spandex tights or nylon bicycle shorts...something that clings and hugs the contours of your perfect bottom!" 

I felt shamed and degraded at the way this older woman was fondling and enjoying my naked body and then Christina's voice cut in again and said, "Gwendoline, this woman just gave you some fashion advice. Aren't you going to thank her?" 

"Thank you, Ma'am," I managed to say. "That was very kind of you." 

"I'm sure next time she comes over, Gwendoline will dress more appropriately." 

The hidden threat could not be more obvious as far as I was concerned. If I showed up at Christina's house and didn't wear something that showed off the shape of my ass, Christina would punish me. I was going to have to do some clothes shopping before I returned to Christina's home. 

"I can't thank you enough for inviting me over," said Vice Principal Murray as she continued to fondle my buttocks and thighs, "This girl is an absolute delight I had no idea." 

"I can't take all of the credit," said Christina from somewhere behind me. "Gwendoline confessed to me that she had a fantasy about being forcibly stripped in front of her high school vice principal and that inspired me. I already knew enough about Gwen that it wasn't difficult to do a little research and find out which high school she went to. The internet is a wonderful research tool." 

"Really," said the school administrator as she glided her hand down in between my butt cheeks and eventually cupped my swollen labia from behind, "Gwen, you naughty little girl. I had no idea that you fantasized about such things. You have always seemed like such an innocent. You never even dated back in high school." 

"No ma'am," I agreed. 

"But you had such naughty fantasies," she continued. 

"Yes ma'am," I said, agreeing with her again. My voice was strained as she slid her finger into my throbbing sex once again. It felt wrong to be fingered by this older woman, but I still panted and trembled my hips writhed involuntarily. 

"You should have told me," she said as she continued to probe my sex with her finger, "I could have been your first." 

"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said through clenched teeth. It was hard to talk now. She was very wise in the ways of stimulating a female's lusts and her finger was doing all sorts of things that made me pant and squirm. 

"Turn her around, again," she said to Lindsay, and Lindsay used my hair like a leash to guide me away from the wall and towards Vice Principal Lewis. 

When I was facing Vice Principal Lewis, Lindsay commanded me to place my hands behind my back. I complied instantly, crossing them at the wrists. 

Then Vice Principal Lewis surprised me, leaning in, wrapping her arms around my naked body and kissing me passionately on the mouth. I was caught by surprise and instinctively opened my mouth to accept the older woman's tongue. I felt the rising and falling of the other woman's breasts through the fabric of her dress as they pressed against my own naked breasts and swollen nipples. 

I didn't realize that a woman of her age could kiss with such intensity. I almost felt as if I should apologize for my prejudicial opinions against women her age. I didn't have much experience in this area, but I was thinking that she kissed with all the passion of a teenager. I very nearly wrapped my arms around her in response, but when I lowered my arms and started to reach for the older woman, Lindsay yanked reproachfully on my hair. 

"Ow," I exclaimed and placed my hands behind my back again like a good girl. 

Vice-Principal Murray continued to kiss me and rub herself up against my naked body. In the back of my mind it seemed wrong and forbidden to me that I would be ogled, fondled and kissed by a woman who was at least fifteen years my senior, however my traitorous nipples hardened as she rubbed up against them and I moaned into her mouth as her hands and lips excited my libido as she touched my naked body. 

And just as the rubbing and the kissing and being made naked and helpless got me to a state of arousal where I was panting and soaking wet between my legs, Christina spoke up and announced, "That's enough you two. It's time that Gwendoline was punished for her misdeeds." 




Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 03



Vice Principal Murray stopped kissing me and stepped back and allowed me to get my first good look at Christina. She was wearing a wool belted pants suit. Her dressing so formally made me feel even more naked than before. And while I was barefoot, she towered over me in her high-heeled shoes. Her superior height and clothes made me feel even more submissive than before. 

Despite my feelings of submissiveness and intimidation, I felt compelled to ask, "What misdeeds? What did I do wrong?" 

Christina actually looked surprised when I said that, and responded, "Seriously, Gwendoline? Well, for starters you referred to me by my given name rather than calling me Mistress. I warned you about that. And when my guest asked you about you shaving your pussy, you failed to answer her. That's just rudeness, and I can't allow a slave of mine to be rude to my guests, and then there's the fact that you didn't undress right away after you entered my home. I warned you about that too." 

With those words Christina had set a trap for me. I could have side-stepped it by keeping my mouth shut, but sometimes a slave-girl doesn't know when to keep silent. 

"But Mistress," I protested, "I couldn't undress right away! Lindsay grabbed me from behind and twisted my arm behind my back!" 

"Blaming one of my guests for your failure," Christina admonished, "That's rudeness again. So, now there are four offenses that I need to punish you for. Lindsay, bring her here so that I can secure her hands." 

I allowed Lindsay to lead me by my hair over to Christina. I didn't bother to complain about the unfairness of Christina punishing me. It struck me that this was more or less what I had asked Christina to do to me. I had told her about my fantasies, about the evil step-sisters and the evil step-mother. They would always be unfair in my fantasies. If Christina was going to make my fantasies come true, she would have to be unfair too. 

When my naked body was standing near Christina, she took my wrists and brought them behind me. She brought both hands up on my back, bending them at the elbows until my wrists were crossed and up by my shoulder blades. Then she began winding rope around my wrists, very tight and precise. 

I hadn't even seen her holding any ropes. I suppose she might have been holding them behind her back. Of course I had been rather preoccupied before, what with being stripped naked and fondled and fingered by a woman who used to be my high-school vice-principal. Christina probably could have been holding a rocket launcher without me noticing. 

"Have you ever been spanked before, Gwendoline?" she asked as she tugged each winding down tightly. 

"Never, Mistress," I confessed. "My parents never believed in spanking. I was rarely bad and when I misbehaved they usually just grounded me or took away my telephone privileges." 

"You poor girl," Christina said. "A young girl can benefit greatly from corporal discipline. It would have been good for you. But now that you're here I suppose we can make up for the punishments that your parents never gave you." 

Foolishly I asked, "Will it hurt?" 

"It's no good unless it hurts." She finished binding my wrists and knotted the rope several times. But there was still more rope in her hand. She then ran the rope over my shoulder and down under my arm back to the wrists. That was repeated over the other shoulder, and several times for each shoulder. When she tied the final knots, my hands were not only tied, they were locked high up on my back. 

I tugged at them a bit, but there wasn't much hope of working anything free, this woman was simply too good with the ropes. 

When my arms were completely immobilized, Christina turned me around and said, "Since you've never been spanked before, I'll explain the rules to you. The number of swats you receive is based on your age and the number of offenses that you've been found guilty of committing." 

I quickly did the mental math. I was twenty-one years old and Christina had found me guilty of four separate offenses; that came to a grand total of eighty-four swats. I was a beginner when it came to spanking; a virgin if you will. I wasn't certain how my virgin skin would hold up under a barrage of eighty-four swats on my bare behind. 

Then Christina took each of my swollen nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and squeezed them in a painfully tight grip. The pain of Christina's fingers on my nipples was very nearly as sharp and painful as the nipple clamps that had imprisoned my nipples the day before. I gasped and whimpered in pain and struggled against the ropes as Christina explained the rest. 

"Since you were rude to Vice-Principal Murray, she'll deliver the first twenty-one swats to your naughty behind. Lindsay will deliver the second twenty-one swats, and I'll deliver the remaining forty-two swats to your bare bottom." 

I had never imagined that Christina would allow anyone else to spank me. I had just assumed that any pain delivered to my naked flesh would be inflicted by Christina herself. In panic I struggled against the ropes again. To be spanked by Vice-Principal Murray would be humiliating. It would basically reduce me to a naughty school girl being sent to the principal's office. 

It didn't matter how humiliating or demeaning I thought it would be, Christina simply yanked hard on my nipple and led me across the room to an ottoman where Vice-Principal Lewis was now seated. Then; still pulling on my nipple; Christina forced me to bend over and get across Vice-Principal Murray's lap. 

Once I was in position, I was staring down at the floor with my arms helplessly bound behind my back and my naked butt raised up in the air. I could feel the fabric of Vice-Principal Murray's skirt against my naked belly and realized this wasn't just a humiliating position to be punished, but also a very revealing and intimate one. 

"I am so lucky," Vive-Principal Murray gushed as she gently touched my naked skin with her fingers and traced the line of my bottom where it joined my thighs and traveled slowly up to the cleft between my cheeks. 

"I never get to spank girls at Santa Monica High School, but now here I have a former student with the most perfect buttocks across my lap, naked and prepared to do her penance. Thank you for this golden opportunity, Christina." 

I closed my eyes and tensed my buttocks, wondering just how hard Vice-Principal Murray could spank. She said that she'd never had an opportunity to spank a girl before, so that meant she was an amateur. I wondered if he lack of experience meant she wouldn't be able to swat my vulnerable bottom all that hard. 

The first smack that came down and stung far more than I'd thought it would. I had never been spanked before in my life, so I had no idea how much it could hurt, but it was a sharp, stinging pain and the woman spanking me didn't give me any time to adjust to the pain. A second and a third stinging slap came raining down on my naked bottom before I fully absorbed the intensity of the first blow. 

I whimpered and yelped like a penitent teenager as she took advantage of my nudity, my helplessness and the vulnerable, humiliating position I was in. The pain was sharp and daunting and soon I had hot, wet tears streaming down my face. 

But it didn't matter how much I cried out in pain or how much my naked butt squirmed or how many wet, pitiful tears streamed down my face, she just continued to punish my poor, naked bottom with one stinging blow after another. 

My poor, naked bottom had never been in so much pain and then she stopped spanking it long enough to say, "Gwen, your bottom is so beautiful, it's a shame you can't see it. Not only is it firm and perfectly shaped, but this reddish-pink color really highlights it. The color really attracts your attention and draws the eye in and makes your bottom the center of attention." 

I tried to say something in response, but suddenly her hand was slapping my naked skin once again, only this time she was spanking the backs of my thighs, which turns out are even more sensitive than my ass. I screamed even louder than before as she mercilessly inflicted stinging slaps to my thighs. 

I felt more helpless and vulnerable than ever before as Vice-Principal Murray inflicted seven stinging spanks to the backs of my bare thighs while I was bound and bent over her lap. By the time she was finished spanking me I was sobbing like a little girl. 

My bottom felt like it was hot enough to melt butter, however my punishment wasn't over. I was lifted up off of Vice-Principal Lewis's lap and Lindsay was allowed to sit down on the ottoman. 

Once over her lap, she stroked by bare bottom and said, "Lydia was right. Your bottom really is beautiful." 

Then without warning she smacked my poor bottom and made me flinch. My bottom was already sore and Lindsay had a strong arm and firm hands. Her initial swat stung worse than any of the swats Vice-Principal Murray had rained down on my ass. 

Her second swat stung even worse than the first, although it was around about this time I realized that the heat within my loins was increasing. 

The heat in my pussy didn't make the pain on my bare buttocks and thighs any less, however as the throbbing heat between my legs became more and more intense, the pain became something sexual and somehow enjoyable. It was less like a punishment and more like having a powerful orgasm from a dildo that's much too large for you and yet you force it inside your vagina anyway and painfully stretch your vaginal muscles as you race towards orgasm. 

Lindsay didn't care about my lust or my throbbing pussy. She only cared about spanking my ass and turning my skin to an angrier color of red. I screamed in pain even though my throbbing pussy was getting wetter and wetter as Lindsay punished me. I blame it on years of masturbating to fantasies of Cinderella being spanked and whipped and abused by her wicked step-sisters. I've always had powerful orgasms while fingering myself and thinking about poor Cinderella being punished, but I never truly imagined that I'd ever be thrown over a woman's knee and spanked like she was. 

I screamed until my throat was sore and I was too hoarse to continue screaming. My face was soaking wet with my own tears and Lindsay continued to smack my poor naked bottom until she'd delivered the full twenty-one swats she'd been allotted. 

I had stopped screaming, however I was still sobbing and twitching. I hadn't quite reached orgasm, however my sex was wet and throbbing like it had never been before. Perhaps this was the reason that Christina forbade me to masturbate. Only by denying me sexual release could my lust reach this sort of boiling point. 

In addition to sobbing in pain I was also panting with sexual excitement. I panted and gasped and moaned as Lindsay's cruel hand punished my naked buttocks. I was breathing very hard and I felt feverish with sexual heat. My nipples were very rigid and my hips were squirming and bouncing with each and every swat against my defenseless bottom. My face was wet with tears, my body was wet with sweat and my throbbing sex was wet with sexual hunger. 

In my sexual fever I barely even noticed when I was lifted off Lindsay's lap and bent over Christina's. I felt Christina's arm around my waist and heard Lindsay say, "Her bottom looks awfully red. Are you sure she can take forty-two more?" 

"Girl's bottoms are very resilient," was Christina's reply. "You'd be amazed just how much punishment they can take." 

Naked and bound, and my bottom already sore, I felt more helpless than ever any time previously in my entire life, and that feeling of helplessness only caused the throbbing heat between my legs to intensify. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lindsay take a step back and gaze at my body with an expression of concern. It was one thing for her to make me helpless and strip me naked in front of my high school principal, but she seemed to be concerned when a girl with an already-red bottom was to receive another painful spanking on top of that. Despite her look of concern, Lindsay didn't say anything and then suddenly there was a loud smack as I felt Christina's hand impact hard across my left buttock. 

Then the next blow came down on my right buttock. And then on the heels of that a stinging smack came down across the back of my left thigh. 

Soon I was screaming in pain again. Christina had a strong spanking arm, maybe even stronger than Lindsay's. Or perhaps it just seemed that way because my bottom was already so sore from my previous two spankings. I screamed and screamed and screamed again, but Christina never lessened the severity of her blows. They just kept coming down, one after another. 

I slipped into a shameless, mindless state, sobbing and whimpering while my ass and thighs got redder and redder. Tears ran down my face and blurred my vision. But in the midst of all of this pain and humiliation I was hotter and more aroused than I had ever been before. And while I kicked and thrashed around on Christina's lap and screamed in pain, I suddenly realized that I was on the verge of orgasm. 

Wave after wave of pleasure ripped through me while Christina continued to spank my ass. It was more powerful than any orgasm I'd ever had before and I screamed at the intensity of it. It seemed humiliating and degrading to be naked and having a powerful orgasm while my high school vice principal watched, however it occurred to me that she'd probably suppose that my screams of sexual release were screams of pain. 

I was made to stand and then kissed warmly. "Darling, you're so beautifully responsive," Christina told me, "You're a perfect female subject for corporal discipline." 

I was then kissed and kissed some more. Christina's mouth muffled the sounds of my sobbing. 

"You're bottom is so cute right now, Gwendoline," Vice Principal Murray assured me, "I wish you could see it." 

Vice Principal Murray took possession of my nudity and kissed me as well. The dynamic had changed. I was no longer a naughty young girl who deserved to be punished. For the moment I was a girl who had paid her penance and had been forgiven. 

Even Lindsay kissed me, although she was less affectionate and only kissed me on the forehead. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

I was a good girl now, but that didn't mean that I could go home or even put my clothes back on. These women still had uses for me and they weren't about to let me go any time soon. 

I was ordered to my knees and all three women stripped naked from the waist down. I was impressed by how athletic Lindsay's legs were. She had excellent muscular definition and almost no fat on her thighs or buttocks. She could easily be a dancer or a sprinter. 

Of course I was ordered to eat her pussy. All three women were sexually excited after stripping me and spanking my poor ass raw, so now I was obliged to relieve their sexual excitement. 

Unlike me, Lindsay was not under orders to shave off all of her pubic hair. She had trimmed hers quite short and shaped it into something known as a "landing strip", but she still had more pubic hair than I did. 

Lindsay's labia were quite swollen, reddish in color and impressively slick with her own juices. I licked dutifully at her swollen pubic lips and licked at the hood of her clit until it pulled back and revealed her swollen clit. Lindsay moaned so loud at this I feared her moans might be heard out on the street. 

Surprisingly Lindsay's juices tasted nothing like Christina's. I was an amateur when it came to going down on a woman and I had originally guessed that all women would taste the same. 

"Oh God," Lindsay exclaimed in between panting and gasping, "Oh God, you wonderful girl! Oh God, your tongue! Lick me with that wonderful tongue! Yes, yes, lick me you wonderful, naked slave girl!!" 

I licked and kissed her pussy, snaking my tongue over her lips and in between them, sticking my tongue up inside her pussy. I felt her squirming and Lindsay's hands grabbed my blonde hair again and pulled my head hard against her pelvis. My head was trapped and Lindsay rubbed her pussy against my mouth and I felt her tense, shiver and tense once more and pull me in harder. I felt her spasms and kept licking her pussy until she relaxed her grip on my head and pushed me slightly away from her vulva. 

I kissed her gently on her thighs, but Lindsay just pushed me further away. Apparently the naked slave-girl wasn't permitted to touch Lindsay after she'd reached orgasm. 

Suddenly there was the sound of leather smacking loudly against bare skin and a sudden, sharp stinging sensation across both of my naked buttocks. 

"There's no time for you to rest, Darling," Christina informed me, "Now get to work at pleasuring the next woman in line." 

On my knees, Christina herded me over to Vice Principal Murray, smacking my already-sore buttocks with a leather belt to encourage me to crawl faster. 

"Aren't you a lucky girl, Gwen?" she asked. "Christina gives you exactly what you need, treats you exactly the way you should be treated." 

I assumed that was a rhetorical question so I didn't bother to answer it and I moved between Vice Principal Murray's legs. Her thighs and calves didn't look nearly as athletic as Lindsay's, however for a woman in her late thirties, she actually looked pretty good. 

She didn't shave her vulva, and I had to poke my nose through a forest of pubic hair before I could find her labia. It was frustratingly difficult work without my hands. 

She seemed to read my mind and officiously said, "You may as well stop twisting your arms, you can't get loose." 

"Knees far apart," Christina admonished me, "Slave-girls should always keep their knees far apart." 

I readjusted my kneeling stance and shamelessly exposed the swollen lips of my sex. I had just had an orgasm while over Christina's lap, but already there was a strong, passionate fire burning in my loins. I was excited, yearning and desperately eager to be touched. 

I knelt between the legs of my high school vice principal and she grasped my blonde hair and thrust my face where it would do the most good. I was enveloped in the pungent scent of the older woman. Her firm hands shook my head demandingly. Naked, helpless and humiliated, I licked at the older woman's wet, pungent sex. I envisioned how I must look; naked and on my knees, my ass red and stinging, sexually servicing an administrator from my old high school and I actually sobbed at how humbled and debased I must look. 

Vice Principal Murray began to pant almost immediately as I went to work licking her pussy, however it took much longer to get her to orgasm. 

And while I proceeded to lick and suck and kiss at Vice Principal Murray's swollen labia and clitoris, I couldn't help but notice that she tasted differently from Christina and Lindsay. Her juices tasted rather salty, whereas Christina tasted very much like wine and Lindsay tasted...well, I can't quite put her taste into words, but she tasted different from the other women that I've gone down on. 

She also took a lot longer to reach orgasm than Lindsay did. Lindsay was highly responsive and exploded into an energetic orgasm with very little effort on my part. However Vice-Principal Murray panted, gasped and wagged her hips for at least ten minutes before she finally came. I don't quite understand why she took so much more effort. Perhaps it has something to do with her age. I mean, Lindsay is in her late teens or early twenties and Vice-Principal Murray is in her late thirties. 

When she finally reached orgasmic bliss, Vice-Principal Murray gripped my long hair tightly and pulled my head away from her pubic lips and exclaimed, "Oh, my Dear Girl that was wonderful!" 




Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 03



Then she continued to pant for a while and said, "Thank you Christina for sharing your girl with me." 

I had done all the work, but Christina was getting the thanks. Was that some sort of deliberate slight? Or was there some sort of rule that the credit for a slave-girl's labors always went to her mistress? 

"What better way to begin a friendship," Christina asked, "then by sharing such a wonderful gift as this?" 

Of course, I was the gift. I was something pretty and desirable to be shared with friends on special occasions. I was valued property. 

And of course, having shared me with her friends, Christina made use of me as well. Apparently a good hostess allows her guests to sample a slave's talents before she enjoys the slave's talents as well. 

With Lindsay and Vice-Principal Murray watching, I stuck my face into the folds of Christina's shaved, smooth, slick pubic lips and proceeded to make her moan, pant, whimper and shudder. I had eaten Christina to an orgasm once before, however that time we were both alone. Now I had an audience and I realized that it was much more humiliating to lick Christina's pussy while she had her friends watch. 

And yet, no matter how humiliating it was I continued to do it, mostly because I wanted Christina's approval and I would basically do anything to please her and keep her happy with my performance. 

I suppose I wanted to be the perfect slave-girl for her. 

And while I engulfed Christina's shaved vulva in my mouth a hand stole between my legs and cupped my own swollen lips. The sensation was exquisite, although completely unexpected. I jerked and writhed and raised my heard up from between Christina's thighs as unseen fingers played with my labia and one finger was inserted into me. 

"Uooogh," I exclaimed inarticulately as I felt the finger invade my most sensitive and secretive place. 

"She's still soaking wet," I heard Lindsay exclaim behind me. "Does everything we do excite her?" 

"A slave-girl should always be soaking wet," I heard Christina reply. "I'd be disappointed in her if she wasn't wet." 

I was ashamed and humiliated to hear Lindsay and Christina talking about the wetness of my pussy like that; however I was also somehow strangely proud. Christina approved of how wet I was between my legs, and that meant something to me. I was always out to gain Christina's approval, even if it meant that Christina humiliated me in front of her friends. 

A sharp crack of leather against my bare buttocks reminded me to return to the task of eating Christina's beautiful, pink slit. 

My bottom was already painfully sore. I was amazed at how much punishment by bare bottom had already taken, however Christina seemed to think I could take more. I needed to be very obedient and attentive if I didn't want to find out just how much more. 

I continued to lick my mistress's pussy. She had taught me just the day before the way she liked a girl to use her tongue and her lips on her. I knew all of the spots in between her legs that made her breath quicken and I lavished attention on them all. I also decided that of the three women whom I'd ever licked to orgasm, Christina tasted the best. 

Maybe that's a psychological thing, because I've formed a strong emotional attachment to Christina, but I honestly felt that her pussy tasted better than Lindsay's or Vice Principal Murray's. 

Christina didn't call out my name, but she panted and wailed and made a lot of inarticulate noises and her pelvis writhed and surged while I sucked on her clit. I did my best to keep my mouth clamped to the center of her womanhood while she had a lusty, powerful orgasm and got her juices all over my lips. 

I remained on my knees while Christina came down from a powerful orgasm and slowly regulated her breathing from heavy panting down to something more standard. 

Shortly after Christina had come down from her first orgasm, she smacked my poor, naked bottom with the belt and ordered me to begin eating her pussy again. Her sex drive seemed much higher than it was the day before. I think humiliating me in front of an audience was a real turn-on for her. 

Her pubic lips were still swollen, slick and pink and I began licking them once again. I started at the bottom and worked my way up to the top, Christina seemed to like that. When my tongue got tired and I paused to get it a break, Christina would instantly swat my poor naked ass with another stinging lash from her belt. I tried to be tenacious in my pussy licking, but my poor tongue was new to cunnilingus and I had already used it three times to lick women to orgasm in the same morning! 

I was soon whimpering in pain because of my stinging, reddened ass and Christina was gasping and panting from the ministrations of my tongue and lips on her pussy. She came forcefully and with ear-splitting screams as I licked at her clit and sucked on it simultaneously. 

"Oh, God," Christina moaned emphatically and then she pushed me away. I was on my knees with my arms bound behind my back, so when she pushed me I really had no way to keep from falling. 

I remained there, naked on the floor, my arms helplessly bound behind my back, gazing up at my mistress's thighs and the slick folds of her freshly eaten pussy. 

"You've done very well, Darling," Christina said as she towered over my prone form, "But now I need to lock you in the dungeon, while Lindsay, Lydia and I discuss your future." 

"You don't want me here while you discuss my future," I asked. 

"Of course," Christina replied. "When a mistress plans out a slave-girl's life, it's much easier if the slave-girl isn't actually there." 

With that settled; Lyndsay and Lydia helped me to my feet and then Lyndsay walked me down the stairs into the dungeon and made certain I didn't fall. Falling down the stairs with my arms bound behind my back would have ruined the whole weekend; however Lyndsay kept her hands on me the entire time and made certain that I maintained my balance. 

Once down in the dungeon, Christina directed her accomplices to place me on a table with my legs hanging over the side. 

"I want her totally exposed while she waits for us to finish our business," Christina said. I was already stark naked. I wondered how much more exposed could I possibly be? I soon found out. 

I was made to lie down on the table, tits-up, which meant that I was lying uncomfortably on top of my bound arms. 

At Christina's direction, Lyndsay and Lydia buckled leather cuffs around my ankles and then clipped some sort of stainless steel clips onto the stainless steel rings built into the leather ankle cuffs. The clips were attached to ropes that hung from the ceiling and once Christina pressed a button there was a mechanical hum and my ankles were lifted up and apart. 

Each of my ankles were pulled in opposite directions. My bare legs were slowly drawn up high and spread far apart, almost like a dancer's split. 

Lyndsay and Vice-Principal Murray watched with indecent interest as my legs were spread obscenely wide and my shaved sex was put on suggestive display for their eyes. 

Almost instantly I felt strain in my inner thighs muscles as the ropes separating my thighs obscenely wide. Feeling trepidation and alarm, I reflexively I struggled against the ropes as the spread of my legs increased, moving wider and wider. My pubic lips began to spread apart and my sore buttocks were lifted up off the table. 

I felt utterly and wantonly exposed. My thighs were spread so wide that there was no park of my slick labia that was not on display for Lyndsay and Vice-Principal Murray to gawk at. Even my anus was exposed by this extreme and indecent spread of my legs. I felt like a virgin sacrifice that had been stripped naked and placed on an altar for some pagan god to violate. 

"We'll be back in a few hours, Dear," Christina assured me as she sauntered over and joined the other two women in ogling my exposed pudendum. Then Christina placed her hands on my obscenely spread inner thighs and gently ran her fingers across my bare, exposed skin. I moaned and whimpered as she stroked the naked flesh nearest my pussy, but sadistically would always stop just short of touching my throbbing, needy sex. 

She kissed me and all three women went upstairs. I heard the door close and lock, which seemed like overkill to me. My wrists and ankles were bound and I was totally helpless. I couldn't even get up off of this table, so what was the point of locking me in? 

I was naked. My wrists were tightly bound in rope and bound behind my back. My ankles were tightly buckled into leather bondage cuffs and spread so far apart that my pussy was indecently on display. There was nothing I could do but wait for Christina to finish planning my future and come down to release me. 

As I lay there all naked and exposed and helpless, I thought about Cinderella and her evil step-sisters. It seemed to me that this was exactly the sort of delicious torment those cruel women would have inflected on poor Cinderella. 

For the first twenty minutes or so I panted and shivered feeling deliciously exposed and defenseless. To truly explore my condition I struggled with all my strength against the leather straps holding my slender ankles. It was pointless. My legs are actually quite strong from years of ballet training, running and all forms of exercise; however the ropes and the leather straps mocked my most strenuous efforts. When I finally gave up, I was panting and knew myself to be helpless. I settled down and submission to Christiana's discipline saturated every inch of my being. 

I had no way of knowing time as there was no clock down in the dungeon. There was very little to look at, other than my exposed pubic lips and my widespread thighs. My blatantly exposed sex made it hard for me to think about anything other than my desperate sexual need. If Christina had only left my hands free, I could do something about the throbbing sexual frustration, but my hands were bound helplessly behind my back. I sighed deeply and considered that this was exactly the sort of cruel humiliation that Cinderella's step-sisters would have subjected on Cinderella. 

Time passes slowly for a naked girl that's bound with her legs awkwardly and uncomfortably spread. My adductor muscles were really feeling the strain after an hour or two and they really began to ache and sweat was forming on my thighs, but there was nothing I could do other than wait for Christina to release me. I was helpless and would be unable to move my legs without her assistance. 

There was also an ache in my blatantly exposed pussy. My slick, swollen labia were so pink, so open and available and on display, it seemed to be begging for the attention of some cruel, demanding fingers or a cruel thrusting phallus that would be plunged in roughly and deep, penetrating all the way to my cervix. 

After about three hours I began to whimper and sob. It was one thing to be tormented by cruel, sadistic step-sisters, but to just be helpless and alone for hour after hour was far too solitary. I felt isolated and abandoned and there was nobody to touch my naked body. I desperately yearned for human hands to touch my naked flesh, even if it was just to pinch a nipple or fondle my sore buttocks. 

Eventually I began to have paranoid fantasies about Christina and the other women just getting in a car and driving away and leaving me all alone in the house. I hadn't told anyone where I was going and if Christina just left me here I could be tied up in her dungeon for days and nobody would know where to look for me. 

I listened hard for any signs of human activity upstairs, but all I could hear was the sound of my own heart beating and my own labored breathing. Had I really been abandoned? And if I really had been abandoned, what then? I had absolutely no way of getting off of this table without any assistance. Christina had tied me so well that I could barely shrug my shoulders and I couldn't move my arms at all. I couldn't even move my fingers as I'd been lying on my arms for so long that everything from my elbows down had gone numb. 

Perhaps three hours had passed or perhaps ten. I really had no way of measuring the passage of time down in the dungeon and then finally after an indeterminate amount of hours I heard the door to the basement being unlocked and sound of footsteps getting closer as three sets of feminine feet descended the stairs. 

"Please untie me, Mistress," I pleaded in a desperate voice that sounded so pathetic I almost didn't recognize it as mine. "I've been tied up down here for so long." 

"Slave-girls get tied up quite often," Christina informed me. "I thought you would have figured that out by now." And then as if to call attention to my helplessness, she gripped one of my tender nipples between her thumb and forefinger and pinched it hard enough to make my cry out in pain. 

"Lydia has to leave now," Christina informed me, her fingers still on my nipple, "But she wanted to let you know how much she's enjoyed fondling your naked body and making you her bitch." 

My face felt saturated with heat and I'm certain I must have been blushing at Christina's remarks. And to add to my embarrassment, Vice-Principal Murray said, "I truly enjoyed spanking your bottom, Gwendoline dear. Of all of my former-students, you easily have the cutest bottom. I feel so privileged that I was able to leave my handprints all over your naked ass." 

Somehow the fact that I used to be a student at her high school made it more humiliating to be spanked and fondled and ogled by Lydia Murray. And then just when I thought the whole encounter couldn't possibly get any more demeaning, Vice-Principal Murray said, "Gwen, I've enjoyed your naked body so much, I'm going to give you something of a reward for all of the happiness you've given me." 

I had absolutely no idea what she meant by that, however I soon found out. This woman; who was almost old enough to be my mother; forced her fingers into my wide-open, throbbing sex and I screamed at the unexpected intrusion. 

While the older woman deeply and vigorously fingered my pussy, Lyndsay kissed me passionately on the mouth, gagging my mouth with hers and forcing her tongue into my mouth. I felt fingers inside of me, moving, clenching and moving some more, my exposed, vulnerable pussy belonged to that hand. Those fingers and knuckles owned my pussy far more than I did. 

I was being penetrated in my cunt and in my mouth and the sensation was overwhelming. I was crying out loud into Lyndsay's mouth, although I don't think any of the women in the dungeon could hear much of my screams. Lydia Murray's fingers filled my sex and fucked me deep, filling me up completely. The older woman had strong fingers and they took total possession of my aching sex, stuffing me full and banging me wide open. There were tears in my eyes and I screamed into Lyndsay's mouth as my sex seemed to explode and I was enveloped in wave after wave of white-hot thunderous orgasms. I saw light behind my closed eyelids and convulsed wildly as Vice-Principal Murray kept her long strong fingers deep inside of me. 

When she finally pulled her fingers out of my defenseless pussy, I was drenched in sweat and panting as if I'd just run a marathon. 

Vice-Principal Murray sucked my juices off of her fingers like it was whipped cream, giving me a lewd, suggestive look the whole time. It seemed wrong that a woman who was my Vice-Principal back in high school should be fingering my pussy or giving me lewd, suggestive looks. It was like we were breaking some ancient taboo. 

Christina broke me away from my thoughts of improper student/administrator relations and made a proclamation. 

"From now on, dear, you should view Lyndsay as one of your wicked step-sisters. Should you meet her on the street, I expect you to be polite and friendly with her. And should she come over to your home, I expect you to invite her in and be the perfect hostess." 

Lyndsay looked down at my naked form, smiled and blew me a kiss. "Yes, Mistress," I dutifully replied to Christina. 

"As for Lydia," Christina continued, "The same rule goes for her, although I think that because of her age, we'll refer to her as a wicked step-mother." 

"Yes, Mistress," I replied once again, sounding so obedient and deferential even I thought it was pathetic. 

"You won't have to have sex with them unless I specifically order you to, although you must treat them with the same sort of warms and respect as you'd treat your closest friends." 

"Yes, Mistress," I replied automatically. 

"Of course if I meet you on the street," Vice-Principal Murray began, "You'll be respectfully clothed, but no matter what you're wearing, I'll still remember what you looked like stark-naked and with my handprints on your naked backside." 

I hadn't considered that, but now that she brought it up, I felt very humbled and shamed that this woman would always and forever carry that memory of me around in her head. 

Vice-Principal Murray kissed me on the forehead and then she kissed me passionately on the lips and then she ascended the stairs and walked out of the dungeon, leaving me behind, naked and helpless. Somehow I felt that I should dread our next meeting. 

"You really enjoyed getting fingered by that woman, didn't you?" Lyndsay inquired. "Wait until it's me who goes after that pussy. I'll make you scream like the mountains are crashing down." 

I had no idea what to say in response to that, so I just stared up at Lyndsay in a manner that I hoped she found submissive and accommodating. My inner thigh muscles were really sore from being stretched so severely for so long. I was really hoping that these two women would untie me soon.



Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 04



Monday was boring.

Instead of going over to Christina's house to be stripped naked, tied up, spanked and sexually abused, I went to work. 

My job is pretty boring. I work in a bank, processing deposits, loan payments, cashing checks, entering data into my computer and filling out paperwork.

I had worked at the bank for about two years, but somehow everything about the place now seemed wrong. I felt like I should be naked behind the counter, and if my boss found any fault with my work, I felt she should call me into her office for a traumatically painful spanking that left my bottom all red.

But instead I wore a pale-gray skirt-suit and my boss spoke politely to me and reminded me to fill out a CTR for that large cash deposit I had taken in on Friday.

Tuesday was just as boring as Monday. I redeemed a lot of savings bonds. I helped an elderly customer with their questions about required minimum distributions from their IRA and of course there was lots of data entry and paperwork.

Then came Wednesday.

Wednesday, Lyndsay came into the bank and greeted me like we were old friends.

"Gwen, it's so good to see you! I didn't know you were working here! How are you? What time do you get off? We should totally get together after work!"

I was totally shocked to see Lyndsay at the bank, but I didn't panic (not much anyway), and pretty much just improvised and went along with whatever she said. She didn't say anything about me getting spanked or forced to perform cunnilingus on her and Christina, so she didn't actually hurt my reputation and my job was still secure.

However, it turned out that the stuff she said about hanging out after work was actually genuine. When my shift ended, Lyndsay was waiting for me out in the parking lot.

She had parked her car just two parking spaces down from mine and intercepted me before I could get my car keys out and open the door to my Volkswagen Golf.

"Hello, Little Girl," she said as she walked up and gave me a sisterly hug.

"Lyndsay," I said hesitantly, "I, um, hello." 

"I thought we should hang out, just the two of us," Lyndsay said, linking her arm in mine. "We can do some shopping and I'll take you to dinner. We'll take my car."

I had little choice in the matter. Christina said that if I ran into Lyndsay in public, I should treat her as if we were good friends. If I pushed her away or acted distant toward Lyndsay, Christina would find out and I'd be punished. If I was going to be obedient, I'd need to be warm and friendly towards Lyndsay.

"Um, okay," I said as Lyndsay dragged me over to her car. Of course her car was much nicer than mine. She drove a Jaguar XK. I wondered how she paid for it. You couldn't buy a car like this on a bank teller's salary.

Lyndsay walked me to the passenger seat of her car and fastened my seatbelt around my waist. I could have easily fastened it myself, but for some reason Lyndsay was taking charge of things like that.

"So, where are we going?" I asked as Lyndsay started up the engine.

I realized as she drove away and I left my car behind, I was utterly at her mercy. Without my car, I would pretty much need Lyndsay to get home. I had just given a huge chunk of freedom away to Lyndsay without even thinking about it.

"We're going to the Fremont Mall," Lyndsay explained. "Christina said that you needed to wear clothes that would allow you to show off the shape of that cute little bottom of yours, and what you're wearing right now just isn't doing your bottom justice. I'm going to buy you an abundance of clothes that display your ass to its best advantage."

When Christina had told me to wear clothes that showed off my ass, I had naturally assumed that I would be picking out my own clothes. Apparently Lyndsay was taking that away from me and dressing me herself. 

* * * * * * * * * *

When we got to the Fremont Mall, Lyndsay took me straight to Erotische Dessous. It was a lot like Victoria's Secret. They specialized in panties, G-strings, thongs, push-up bras and just about every garment a girl needs if she wants to be a stripper.

"We'll start you off with some yoga leggings," Lyndsay announced almost the second we walked through the door. "What's your waist size?"

My waist size is twenty-six inches, and when I told Lyndsay she picked out five pairs of yoga leggings and sent me back to the dressing room.

As Lyndsay ushered me back to the dressing rooms, I passed a customer as she was walking out. She was wearing a backless mini-dress that was so small that it was practically obscene. The front was cut so low that her breasts were almost completely exposed and the hem was so high that it barely covered her ass. If she bent over even a little bit, I'd be able to see what sort of panties she was wearing.

"Excuse me, ladies," the girl said as she squeezed past us and made her way back up front. As I watched her walk away, I hoped that Lyndsay wouldn't have me wearing anything like that in public.

The dressing rooms didn't have doors. They just had curtains. I slid the curtain open and walked inside. Lyndsay followed me.

"Lyndsay, you can't come in here while I'm dressing! They have rules! What will they say if they catch you in here while I'm naked?"

"They won't say anything," Lyndsay assured me. "You think this is my first time here? The staff knows me. I've brought girls in the dressing rooms before and watched while they changed. They have no problem with it."

I wondered if it was store policy that allowed Lyndsay to get away with it, or if Lyndsay just got special treatment because she spent a lot of money here. Either way, I stripped naked while Lyndsay watched. I didn't feel it was necessary to remove my bra and panties, but Lyndsay overruled me by saying that she'd report me to Christina if I didn't get completely naked for her. When my panties reached my ankles, I nervously stepped out of them revealing my shaved vulva to Lyndsay. I didn't know what to do next, so I just stood there with a blushing face as Lyndsay openly stared at my exposed breasts and pubic lips.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Lyndsay asked when I was standing naked in front of her.

"It's humiliating," I replied. "I'm stark naked with nothing standing between me and the other store customers except for a flimsy curtain and it's obvious to anyone who walks by that you're in here with me, ogling my naked body like a dirty old man!"

Apparently, I shouldn't have said that. Lyndsay got a cold look in her eye and picked up my pair of white cotton panties off the changing room bench.

"These will never do," Lyndsay said admonishingly. "No woman under the age of fifty wears white cotton panties like these." Then Lyndsay tossed my panties on the floor and called out, "Claire!!"

Within seconds the curtain was pulled back and a salesgirl appeared. I was still naked and I attempted to cover myself with my hands, but Lyndsay snapped at me, "Don't do that, Gwen! Claire has seen hundreds of naked girls! You're embarrassing me!"

With superhuman effort I put my hands down at my sides and allowed the salesgirl an unobstructed view of my breasts and my shaved pussy. I could feel myself heat with embarrassment and I'm certain that I was blushing.

"Claire, darling," Lyndsay said to the salesgirl, "My friend here needs all new panties. Bring me a variety of thongs and V-strings, would you? About ten of each ought to do it. Nylon and spandex, waist size twenty-six, okay?"

And as an afterthought, Lyndsay picked up my white cotton panties off the floor, handed them to the salesgirl and said, "Oh, and shred these. They're a lost cause."

Claire was eager to please and rushed off without closing the curtain behind her. I attempted to close the curtain myself, but Lyndsay stopped me.

"But, Lyndsay, I'm naked!" I protested. "Anybody walking by can see me!!"

"And maybe that's exactly what I want," Lyndsay snapped. "Maybe I want people to see your body and be jealous. Or maybe, I just want to see you blush. No matter what my motives are, I expect you to be a good little girl and not embarrass me. It's be a shame if I had to report your behavior to Christina."

That shut me up. I stood there naked and hoped that Claire came back quickly and that no customers walked past my dressing room.

Of course, I hoped in vain. A customer walked past almost as soon as the thought of being exposed to customers entered my head. She was a girl of perhaps nineteen. She stood quietly surveying my exposed nudity for about six seconds before arching an eyebrow and continuing down the hall, entering her own changing room.

"Stand up straight, dear," Lyndsay said as she placed a hand on my bare shoulder, "I don't want the customers at Erotische Dessous to think that my girlfriend has bad posture."

It was another step down. Not only was I to be displayed naked for any total stranger that walked past, but I was to stand straight, chin up and chest out so that anyone who happened to see me naked, would see me displaying my nudity with good posture.

"Lyndsay, this is embarrassing," I complained.

"Now, now," Lyndsay admonished me, "A girl with a figure like yours ought not to be embarrassed. With those legs, that narrow waist, that flat tummy and those magnificent breasts, you've got nothing to be ashamed of. You look like you could be a dancer or a fashion model. Bare your body with pride!"

Eventually Claire returned with the thongs and V-strings that Lyndsay had requested. Claire didn't seem to think that there was anything unusual about the way that I was exposing my naked body to anyone who happened to walk by, so I tried to pretend that it wasn't unusual or mortifying either.

Of course, before Claire could hurry off, Lyndsay had another request for her. "Claire, its beach season now. Could you find some swimsuits for my friend as well? Something that will display her bottom? She has a really cute bottom and we're of the opinion that she should really show it off when she goes to the beach."

Claire hesitated for perhaps a second and said, "I think I know just the thing," and then she hurried off. I tried to slide the curtain shut, but Lindsay just slapped my hand and said, "No, no, no! Leave it open!"

So, I stood there in the changing room, stark naked while Lindsay enjoyed watching me squirm, blush and fret about the possibility of more strangers looking at my naked body.

Of course, while I was squirming, another stranger did walk by. A really pale blonde girl in a black t-shirt with the Batman logo walked past and almost failed to notice I had my naked boobs and shaved pubic lips on full display. She dropped what appeared to be a pair of Capri pants when she finally realized there was a naked girl right in front of her. Her eyes went wide and I could hear her very audibly say, "Oh!"

She was wearing glasses and had the look of a bookish college student with very little experience in socialization. She didn't say a word after her first "Oh", but she couldn't take her eyes off of me.

I could see the hungry look in the bookish, nerdy-looking girl's eyes as her mouth hung open and she stared openly at my breasts and exposed nipples. No doubt Lyndsay was amused at my embarrassment. I could feel the heat of the girl's gaze and it took superhuman effort for me to not cover my breasts and crotch with my arms.

I felt exposed and vulnerable and was on the verge of panic, however I also felt a strong shudder of sexual excitement. I was shocked that I was getting wet from the way Lyndsay was exposing me, although Lyndsay probably anticipated I would react this way.

Eventually Lyndsay thought this was enough humiliation for me for the moment as she then closed the curtain to my dressing room. 

Of course, before we left the dressing room, Lyndsay had me try on everything. I had to try on the yoga pants, all of the thongs and all of the v-strings. Lyndsay insisted on helping me dress, even with tiny things like the v-strings. When she pulled the back of the v-sting into my bum crack and made sure it was in place, I understood why people referred to panties like this as "butt-floss".

"It feels funny," I remarked as the material was pulled tight in between my butt cheeks, but Lyndsay just smiled and said, "You look adorable. Christina is gonna love you in those! I know I do!"

So, I tried on everything and posed and modeled all the clothes for Lyndsay's approval. The bathing suit that Claire had chosen was a one-piece, however it was cut very, very high on the leg, so that it left quite a bit of my buttocks exposed and the neckline was cut very low, causing me to expose a lot of cleavage.

"It's perfect," Lyndsay gushed, and she had me turn several times so that she could see me from every possible angle as I modeled this very tight, very revealing swimsuit.

"My parents have a pool," Lyndsay added. "We need to invite you over sometime for a pool party."

"I don't think I can let your parents see me in this. This thing is going to ride up my butt-crack," I complained as I posed. I could feel it starting to ride up already. The simple act of turning and twirling so that Lyndsay could see me from every angle caused the material dig uncomfortably into the furrow between my buttocks. I looked over my shoulder and my reflection in the dressing room mirror confirmed what my hindquarters were already telling me. 

"Don't complain," Lyndsay admonished me. "I think it looks adorable on you, and since I'm paying for everything, you just smile and wear it."

When Lyndsay talked like that she sounded almost like Christina. I shut my mouth and could feel my pussy throb as Lyndsay took control and berated me. It was almost like I was Cinderella and Lyndsay was one of my wicked step-sisters.

So, I smiled just like Lyndsay told me to. When Cinderella received an order from one of her wicked step-sisters, Cinderella submissively obeyed every time. That was how these things always worked. Cinderella never argued, she was stoic and submissive and obeyed every order her step-sisters gave her.

Then, Lyndsay helped me strip out of the swimsuit, she exclaimed, "Oh, but we need to buy you a dress before we go! I'm taking you out to dinner, and I can't let people see my date wearing that boring skirt-suit you wore to work!"

"Claire," Lyndsay bellowed again, bringing the salesgirl sprinting back to the changing room and giving her another opportunity to see me naked.

Once again, Claire looked at me amiably, as if seeing me stark-naked wasn't at all unusual or embarrassing. Remembering Lyndsay's instructions about posture, I placed my hands behind my back and stood up straight. Claire acted as if this was a completely normal and natural thing for me to do.

"Claire, I'm taking this girl out on a date," Lyndsay explained, making me squirm with even greater embarrassment. Not only was I naked, but Lyndsay had basically just told the salesgirl that I was a lesbian, "And I need a dress that will make her look adorable...something that will turn heads...you think you can hunt something up that will fit the bill?"

I could feel my face and upper body becoming saturated with the heat of embarrassment. I was probably blushing a deep red, but Claire didn't even seem to notice. She just dashed off, intent on performing her errand for Lyndsay.

When Claire came back, she was holding a black sheath-dress. "I think you'll be very happy with this," Claire panted. "Not every woman can pull off a dress like this, but your girlfriend has a very sleek, toned body. I think this dress will flatter her figure."

Lyndsay insisted I leave the curtain open while I tried the dress on. Lyndsay also insisted that I couldn't wear any underwear underneath it. Claire didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about Lyndsay's refusal to allow me to wear a bra or panties and so I got dressed that while Claire and Lyndsay watched.

The dress was made of some sort of rayon/spandex mix and it clung to me like a second skin. The neckline was cut low enough that it revealed some of my cleavage, however my biggest concern was the hemline. The hem on the dress was so high that it was almost indecent. The hem of the dress ended just two inches below my butt cheeks. If I bent over for any reason, I would expose my ass. 

Before I could object, Lyndsay gushed, "It's perfect! Claire, you're an artist! We'll take it!!"

Claire produced two bags for us, one for my regular clothes, which Lyndsay insisted were totally inappropriate for going out on a date, and another bag for the swimsuit, yoga leggings, thongs and v-strings that Lyndsay was buying for me.

Claire smiled at me and enthused, "Lyndsay must love you a lot to spend so much money on you."

When we got to the cash register and Lyndsay paid, I could almost agree with Claire's assessment. The final bill was more than eight-hundred dollars, but Lyndsay paid it like it was nothing of consequence.

* * * * * * * * * *

The staff at I nostri amici behaved very much like Claire did when I was standing naked and exposed in front of her. I was wearing a dress that covered my pussy with just the tiniest bit of fabric to spare, and Lyndsay had her arm intimately wrapped around my waist, hand on my hip, holding me close. And while I thought that this was far too suggestive, provocative and Sapphic for a public display, the waiters, waitresses and hostess all seemed to be incapable of noticing how I was dressed or how blatant Lyndsay's displays of lesbian affection were.

When we were both seated at our table, Lyndsay said, "Don't worry. I've brought dates here before. Nobody will so much as raise an eyebrow, no matter what happens here today."

She kissed me passionately one the mouth, just as the waitress was coming over to take our order. And just as Lyndsay predicted, the waitress didn't even raise an eyebrow. She just patiently waited for Lyndsay's lips to separate from mine and then she asked, "Are you ready to order?"

I can't remember what I ordered. I can't remember what Lyndsay ordered. Mostly I remember being glad that the table and the tablecloth helped conceal that I wasn't wearing any panties. You see Lyndsay insisted that I sit with my legs apart and my bare pubic lips were exposed to the air of the restaurant.

"How can you even afford all of this?" I asked, attempting to take my mind off the fact that I was very nearly naked from the waist down. "You paid over eight-hundred dollars buying me clothes today and now you're buying me dinner. What kind of job do you have, that you can afford all of that?"

"I don't actually have a job," Lyndsay said with a smirk on her face. "My mother is president of Brie Incorporated. She's a very wealthy woman and I'm her only child, so she spoils me rotten."

Understanding began to dawn on me. "So, that was really your mother's money that paid for my clothes?"

"What can I say? My mother wants me to be happy," Lyndsay responded. "She knows I like girls and she knows I have a tendency to buy girls gifts. You're not the first girl I've taken clothes shopping."

"Am I the first girl that you've stripped naked and exposed to the customers and staff over at Erotische Dessous?" I asked.

"That sounds like you're being judgmental," Lyndsay said admonishingly. "You'll have to be punished for that."

Suddenly I remembered my place. I was supposed to be the submissive and Lyndsay was supposed to be the wicked step-sister. I was gripped with a feeling of fear and trepidation as I realized I had no idea what sort of punishment Lyndsay might have in mind.

"I'm sorry, Lyndsay," I blurted out. "I didn't mean to judge you."

"It's too late," Lyndsay said, not willing to debate the issue. "You have to be taught not to take that tone with me. And you're not the first girl that I've stripped naked at Erotische Dessous, either. Although you've been the most fun. You're the only girl that actually blushed when she was displayed naked. You have no idea how adorable you look when you do that!"




Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 04



"You like it when girl's blush?"

Lyndsay smirked again, "You see Christina's big thing is she likes to tie girls up. My big thing is stripping girls naked in a public place and making them squirm and feel vulnerable and exposed. If they blush that's a huge bonus."

"Why?" I asked.

Lyndsay seemed to take some time to think about this and finally replied, "I don't really know. Get a girl naked in front of a room full of clothed women and watch her squirm uncomfortably, while she's examined and studied...it just gets me excited. That's been my fetish for about as long as I can remember."

"Dear God," I exclaimed, "I didn't even know that was a thing."

"Those of us who know about it refer to it as CFNF." When I gave Lyndsay a look on non-comprehension, she elaborated.

"It's an acronym. It stands for clothed female, nude female. The clothed female feels a sense of power and domination as she's the only one who's clothed. The naked female feels a sense of embarrassment and humiliation, as she's exposed and examined by people who are fully dressed and respectable. Do a google search on it and you'll get about 300,000 hits."

I had never heard of CFNF before, but I instantly understood the logic in it. It sounded like the sort of cruel, sadistic thing that the wicked step-sisters would do to Cinderella.

I wanted to ask if Lyndsay intended to strip me naked in front of women other than Claire and the customers at Erotische Dessous, however I feared that might be considered a judgmental question, and Lyndsay had already made it clear that I would be punished if it sounded like I was judging her. 

About ten minutes after our food arrived, (I still can't remember what I ordered) our waitress marched over and asked us if everything was to our liking.

Before I could answer, I felt Lyndsay's hand on my thigh, surreptitiously moving up my bare skin and towards my pubic lips. I squirmed and made a feminine "yelp" sort of noise.

"Are you alright, Miss?" asked our waitress.

"She's just nervous," Lyndsay, said, answering for me. "This is our first date and she has butterflies in her stomach. She's never been out on a date with another girl before."

The waitress couldn't see it, but Lyndsay's hand was still on my upper thigh. I tried not to squirm or jump or make any loud noises as she caressed my thigh. The waitress just smiled and said, "Well, you two make for a very cute couple. If you need anything just shout."

"Okay," I said, embarrassed and probably blushing all over. It was only a few days ago that I realized I was probably gay and here Lyndsay was outing me to a total stranger! It was utterly humiliating!


"Why did you say that?" I asked, feeling utterly humiliated. "Now she thinks we're both lesbians!"

Lyndsay just looked at me nonplussed and asked, "So?"

I didn't have a ready comeback for that. When I said nothing, Lyndsay raised one eyebrow and added, "As near as I know, we are both lesbians."

I had never had any sexual fantasies about boys before, however I was still having some difficulty adjusting to the label "lesbian". Somehow it seemed a more inflammatory label than I could currently cope with.

"Listen, Gwen," Lyndsay said, sounding suddenly serious, "You have sex with women. I have sex with women. It's nothing to be ashamed of. And I know this waitress. She's seen me bring women here on dates before. She's not going to judge either one of us on our sexual orientation."

It turned out that Lyndsay was right. Every time the waitress came within visual range of Lyndsay and me, Lyndsay would kiss me on the lips or engage in some sort of display of affection for the waitress to watch. Our waitress would smile, or ask us if we wanted anything, but never reacted in any negative fashion.

After dinner, Lyndsay decided to take me home. I wanted hero to drive me back to the bank, so I could retrieve my car, but Lyndsay insisted that she wanted to see where I lived.

"Do you live with your parents?" Lyndsay asked. 

"No, I live with a roommate," I replied.

"Male of female?"

"Female. Her name is Julie."

"Cool! I wanna meet her!"

I was opposed to the idea of Lyndsay, meeting Julie, but Lyndsay was very insistent, and I'm basically submissive by nature. Lyndsay drove me home and when we got out of her car, we walked towards the front door of my apartment building. I carried the bags with my new clothes and Lyndsay wrapped her arm around my waist.

When Lyndsay and I walked across the lobby of the apartment building, Mr. Pak was standing outside of the manager's office and he saw us. Lyndsay held me closer when she saw him and she kissed me affectionately on the cheek. Mr. Pak's eyes went wide.

"Lyndsay," I hissed in alarm, "That's one of my neighbors! He lives on the second floor! What's he going to think of me now?"

"He'll think that the cute blonde girl who lives in his building is a lesbian," replied Lyndsay without any hint of concern. "Relax, I just made you more interesting. Now, you're more than just another pretty face. You're a lesbian with a hot girlfriend. This is the sort of thing that lots of guys fantasize about."

"Oh, please don't do this," I begged Lyndsay, "Julie respects me! She thinks I'm straight! She'll think less of me if she thinks I'm gay! Don't ruin my reputation with her!!"

"You really think that your roommate will think less of you, if she thinks you're a lesbian?"

"Yes," I insisted, "She's straight! She's engaged to a guy named Gabriel!!"

"Not every woman who gets married is straight," Lyndsay replied, "And not every straight woman is contemptuous of lesbians." And then with much fear and trepidation I pulled out my key and unlocked the door to my apartment.

Julie was sitting on the couch when I came in. She had kicked off her shoes and was watching some movie with Michelle Pfeiffer and Jeff Goldblum while drinking a glass of wine. She looked up at me and said, "Gwen, you're home late."

And then she noticed Lyndsay and asked, "Who's your friend?"

I fumbled for the correct words, "Oh, Julie, this is Lyndsay, she's my-"

And then Lyndsay stepped in, walked straight over to Julie, shook her hand and said, "I'm her girlfriend. We've been dating for a few weeks and I finally insisted that she introduce me to some of her friends. After all, how can I tell if we're compatible as a couple unless I can get along with her friends as well? Right?"

I held my breath and time seemed to stop as I dreaded Julie's reaction. I had never even hinted to her that I might be gay and now Lyndsay had just outed me as a lesbian and told her that I was in a romantic relationship with a young woman.

"Um, I guess that makes sense," Julie finally responded and shook Lyndsay's hand.

Then Julie turned her head sharply in my direction and said, "Gwen, I had no idea you were gay. You never said anything."

"Yeah, well, um about that," I began, but Lyndsay stepped in again.

"Gwen was raised Catholic," Lyndsay explained to my roommate, "Catholics indoctrinate their children into believing homosexuality is a sin, so Gwen has just been saturated with guilt. I swear, the things parents do to their kids! Poor Gwen is going to need years of therapy to get over all the guilt and self-loathing that was programmed into her!"

My mouth opened to say something, but I was in too much shock to actually form words. Technically I was raised Catholic and technically I was indoctrinated into believing that homosexuality is a sin, however I never told Lyndsay any of that. Was this just a lucky guess on Lyndsay's part, or did she do some investigating into my family life and my history?

Julie made a sympathetic face and looked me in the eye and said, "Gwen, you could have told me. Honestly, I wouldn't have made this any more difficult on you than it's already been. I'm the supportive kind of friend, not the other kind."

I finally managed to get my jaw working again and form some words. "Thanks, Julie," I finally managed. "That's a load off my mind."

I sighed audibly. I felt like a huge bullet had just been dodged. Lyndsay had never even met Julie before today, and yet she seemed to predict how Julie would react better than I did. Or did Lyndsay just get lucky? And how many people get that lucky twice in the same evening?

"Sit, sit, sit," Julie invited and patted the couch cushion next to her. "Any friend of Gwen's is a friend of mine, so come sit by me and we'll talk and get to know each other."

"Everyone should have a friend like you," Lyndsay said as she sat down next to Julie, "It's tough being gay in America, but when you have friends who're supportive, that can make a huge difference!"

I watched in amazement as Lyndsay and Julie chatted like they were old friends. Julie poured Lyndsay a glass of wine and the two of them talked about how unfortunate I was to have a Catholic upbringing and how people like Mike Huckabee, Kim Davis and Ted Cruz were totally anti-Democracy and anti-human rights for their strong opposing to same-sex marriage. I had no idea Julie felt so strongly about gay rights. I mean...I had always assumed that she would be opposed to same-sex marriage and gay rights in general. I mean, weren't most straight people opposed to same-sex marriage? 

Maybe same-sex marriage and homosexuality wasn't as controversial as I thought.

Neither Lyndsay nor Julie tried to exclude me from the conversation, however I was so stunned by the recent turn of events, that I could barely put two words together. As a result, Julie and Lyndsay did most of the talking.

But when Julie finally noticed my bags from Erotische Dessous, she forgot all about same-sex marriage and the struggle for human rights and wanted to know what I had bought. 

"Oh my God, you two went to Erotische Dessous!! Show me what you bought," she said excitedly.

Julie's enthusiasm just rolled over me like a tidal wave, and I went with it. I opened up one of the bags and reached inside. The first thing that came out was a v-string panty. The tiny piece of fabric was just barely large enough to conceal a woman's pubic area and was made of nylon/polyester/spandex spun so thin, it could almost be mistaken for a spider's web.

"This is just so cute," Julie gushed, and then peeking in the bag, she got a glimpse of some of the other purchases, mostly more v-strings and thongs.

Julie pulled another v-string out of the bag and admired the handiwork of the people who had made it. This one was embroidered with little snowflakes on the thin fabric that was designed to cover a woman's most intimate treasures.

"This is so darling," Julie enthused, "And just in time for Christmas! But Erotische Dessous is so expensive! All this must have cost you a fortune!!"

"It did," Lyndsay confirmed, "But I can afford it, and if I'm going to be having sex with her, I can't have Gwen wearing those Haynes white cotton briefs. Those things are about as sexy as toe fungus!"

Julie stared at Lyndsay and for several seconds couldn't seem to come up with any words, then finally she managed to say, "You bought all of these as gifts for Gwen?"

Lyndsay spread her arms in a dramatic gesture and cheerfully put one arm around me. Her smile seemed to light up the room as she said, "Having a girlfriend with money doesn't suck, does it, Gwen?"

"Um, no, it doesn't," I replied, still feeling somewhat awkward to be discussing my new lesbian girlfriend with my roommate. Is girlfriend even the right word? The only reason I even had sex with Lyndsay, was because Christina forced me to. Can a romantic relationship begin like that? I was still confused and off-balance.

"Your new girlfriend rocks, Gwen," Julie said excitedly, "I'd almost be willing to turn gay for her, just so I could get the gifts!"

Julie was engaged to a guy named Gabriel. Gabriel was a nice guy, but didn't have a lot of money. And since he was a college student, most of his money went to pay for tuition and books, so I could understand Julie's enthusiastic outburst. Gabriel would never be able to buy Julie expensive gifts like the ones Lyndsay got me.

Then while I was on my first glass of wine (and Lyndsay was on her second), somebody suggested that I model some of the clothes that Lyndsay had bought for me. I tried to protest, but Lyndsay wasn't in the mood to hear any objections from me.

"Come on, Gwen," Lyndsay challenged, "You and Julie live in this small apartment together. Are you going to try and tell me you've never seen Julie in her underwear before?"

"Well, no," I said defensively, "But that's just normal glimpses from when we're doing our normal morning stuff, getting dressed and showering and stuff! You're asking me to parade around like a runway model while wearing butt-floss!"

"And?" Lyndsay countered, innocently.

"It's not like I'm a dirty, old man," Julie added, while trying to look as innocent as a Disney cartoon character. "I'm just Julie. And besides you've seen me in less a G-string before. You've seen me naked, when I've gotten out of the shower."

"Yeah, but," I tried to squawk, but Lyndsay interrupted me.

"Gwen, it's not like Julie is a pervert. She's just a friend who's excited about the fact that you got hundreds of dollars' worth of new clothes. Now, you can be rude and refuse to model them for her, or you can be a good friend and allow her to appreciate your good fortune."

Both Lyndsay and Julie gave me a look, and I knew that they would both make me feel guilty all night long if I didn't model my new, expensive underwear for Julie, so I took a deep breath, grabbed my shopping bags and headed to my bedroom to change my clothes.

In the privacy of my room, I stripped naked and stepped into the tiny v-string panties. The flimsy garment barely did anything to conceal my nudity and left my ass completely bare. I was uncomfortable parading around the living room with my ass-cheeks totally exposed, however I grabbed a bra out of my underwear drawer and put that on so at least my boobs wouldn't be on display as well.

I felt nervous, awkward and shaky, but I put one bare foot in front of the other and forced myself to walk out of my bedroom, down the hall and into the living room. 

I walked down the narrow path between the couch and the TV like a runway model walking down the runway. I carried myself like displaying my near-naked body didn't bother me at all. I placed one foot in front of the other with care. I kept my shoulders relaxed and my arms down at your sides in a relaxed manner. I tried to trick my mind into reach a calm, relaxed state by making my body look calm and relaxed.

After I reached the very edge of the living room, I made a 180 degree turn with the utmost care. I was smooth and poised, even though I felt like running out of the room in a panic and grabbing my clothes. 

Julie clapped her hands and screamed, "Adorable!" And then she added, "You are so lucky can pull that off, Gwen! With my butt, I really couldn't get away with wearing those things, but with your butt, you look like that G-string was made for you!"

Technically, it was a v-string, but I didn't bother to correct her. Somehow being almost naked and on display had taken all of the pride and self-respect out of me. I didn't feel like I could speak up for myself anymore.

"She does look great," Lyndsay agreed, "Any lingerie model would be thrilled to have thighs and buttocks like Gwen's. But what's with the bra? Gwen, that bra and those panties totally don't go together."

"Well, I had to wear something to cover my boobs," I protested.

"Don't you have anything nicer?" Lyndsay asked, "If you're going to be showing off your new panties to an audience, you should be wearing a bra that's equally flattering. That thing looks like you bought it at K-Mart!"

I could feel my face burn hot and I felt mortified. And probably the worst part was that I did buy this bra at K-Mart. I bought most of my underwear at either K-Mart or Sears. Of course, I didn't tell Lyndsay that. Instead, I lowered my eyes and replied, "Lyndsay, I honestly don't own any bras nicer than this one."

Lyndsay took in a deep breath and sighed. The act seemed far too dramatic to be spontaneous, however I seemed to be the only one who noticed this little fact. I think Julie was too drunk to pick up on things like that at the moment. And then, when Lyndsay finally spoke, she said, "It looks like I'm going to have to take you back to the store and buy you all new bras too. If I had known your entire bra collection looked like that, I would have bought you a really nice bra collection while we were at Erotische Dessous."

There was a pause and then Lyndsay said, "I guess there's nothing for it now. Just take the bra off for now."

"What?" I asked, suddenly felling more mortified and helpless than before.

"Take the bra off," Lyndsay repeated, "The bra totally distracts from the beauty of the v-string. You're ruining the effect with that bra."

I looked to Julie for sympathy and support, but she just smiled and waited for me to strip. Finally, I sighed and unhooked my bra. I let it slide off my shoulders and placed it on the couch.

"That's much better," Lyndsay announced, seemingly unaware of my feelings of embarrassment.

I was then sent back to my room to try on another v-string. I was made to parade my nearly-naked body back and forth for Julie and Lyndsay a second time and received more praise for how my flat tummy, firm buttocks and sexy legs allowed me to wear underwear like that and still look good.

"Can we stop now?" I pleaded, but Lyndsay insisted that Julie was having too much fun and I needed to keep modeling my new clothes for her.

So, I continued to expose my nearly-naked body to Julie and Lyndsay, with only the tiniest piece of fabric on my loins to conceal my public lips, everything else was clearly exhibited for female eyes to examine.

Julie had established herself as heterosexual quite some time ago, however I was now having doubts about her. I didn't think she was a lesbian, although bisexuality wasn't out of the question. I just didn't think that a straight girl would get quite so enthused about a lingerie show where the female model bares her tits and ass to her audience.

Am I wrong to think this? I mean, how many straight girls get into this sort of thing?

Eventually I had modeled every single v-string I owned for Julie and Lyndsay's delighted eyes, and I was ordered to try on one of the thongs and come right back out to parade my nearly naked body while that tiny piece of fabric was molded to my loins.

As humbling and mortifying as it was for me to display my nearly-naked body for my roommate, I found myself almost feverish with excitement. Exhibiting my bare breasts and ass for Julie's entertainment had me feeling objectified and debased, however much to my surprise I also had a passionate fire in my loins.

My labia had become swollen, puffy and slightly moist. After I had stripped naked, I wiped the moisture from my pubic lips off with a towel, and moaned as touching myself stoked the fires of my libido and intensified the sexual tension I was feeling.

My slit was aching for me to touch it again and I desperately wanted to, however Christina had already forbade me from playing with my pussy and besides, Julie and Lyndsay were waiting for me back out in the living room. If I took the time to finger my throbbing sex to orgasm, the girls would wonder why I was taking so long and come to check on me.

So, with my naked body suffused with sexual heat and my nipples now embarrassingly hard and erect (and so desperately in need of attention that they ached) I stepped into a pair of thong panties that used only slightly more fabric than the v-string panties. My thong still left my butt-cheeks entirely exposed and I felt positively indecent as I strutted my nearly-naked body out into the living room for Julie and Lyndsay's visual enjoyment.




Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 04



I still attempted to walk with my shoulders and arms relaxed, although my nipples betrayed me and broadcast to anyone with eyes that I was far from relaxed. 

"I feel like a stripper," I complained to my audience as I walked back and forth, exposing almost every inch of my feminine charms. The tiny piece of fabric that was stretched tightly across my loins barely covered anything. 

"Don't ever sneer at strippers," Lyndsay admonished me. "Do you have any idea how much money strippers make?"

The question caught me off guard and my slowed down and came to a complete halt in front of Lyndsay. "Um, not really no."

"A stripper with your kind of body could make three times the amount of money you make at that bank, working as a teller. If you'd like, I could help you get started. I know people at an agency that books, promotes and trains strippers."

I felt my heart beat painfully hard in my chest and my throat seemed to constrict at even the suggestion of stripping for a living. I already felt awkward and embarrassed enough just from stripping for an audience of just two people. What would I feel like if I were to strut my naked ass out in front of an audience of twenty? Or fifty? Or a hundred?

I hesitated to answer and began to say articulate things like, "um," and "I'm not really sure," however my weak response gave Julie the opportunity to step and enthusiastically exclaim, "Gwen! Three times the amount of money you're currently making? You have to let Lyndsay help you get into this kind of gig!"

"Julie!" I protested, "If you seriously think taking your clothes off in front of dozens of ogling strangers is a great career move, why don't you try it?"

Julie seemed somewhat surprised by my question, but then she stood up and theatrically did a spin, displaying her body to the entire room. 

"This is why," she proclaimed loudly, "I have a really cute face and a flat tummy, but my breasts are too small to be a stripper, and I've got an ass like a ten-year old boy!"

Then she noticed that her wine glass was empty and she went to fetch the wine bottle so she could pour herself some more wine.

As she poured, she added, "You Gwen, have been blessed with some really wonderful breasts and an ass that's the perfect size and shape! I hate to downplay my own assets, but you've got a way nicer body than I do!"

Once again, Julie and Lyndsay double-teamed me and once again, they pressured me into agreeing to do what they wanted. I told Lyndsay to set up an interview with her friends at the entertainment industry that booked jobs for strippers, and I promised I'd show up for it.

I knew it was going to be a difficult promise to keep, but I'd do it.

Eventually the fashion show ended, when I had modeled every pair of panties that Lyndsay had bought for me. I was emotionally exhausted at that point, and I felt almost sick with sexual frustration. I told Julie that I was going to go to bed early, but Lyndsay had other plans.

"You can't go to bed yet," she insisted, "This is my first time over at your apartment. You're obligated to show me your room. I can learn a lot about a new girlfriend by examining the room they sleep in."

Julie was enchanted by Lyndsay and cordially announced that it was a pleasure to meet her. Lyndsay and I then ended up walking down the hall to my room, with me nearly naked, Lyndsay fully dressed and Lyndsay's arm around my waist.

Lyndsay wasn't joking she really did intend to examine my bedroom. She went through my bookcase and examined the titles of all my books. There were exercise books, fiction paperbacks by respectable authors and history textbooks, these Lyndsay dismissed without a second glance.

In the drawer of my nightstand she found three BDSM paperbacks. She held one of them up where I could see it. The cover displayed a naked blonde girl, shackled to a whipping post. She had a panicked expression on her face and several marks on her thighs and buttocks where she already obviously been struck by a whip.

"This girl looks remarkably like you," Lyndsay observed.

"She's blonde, she has nice legs and large, firm boobs," I countered. "Artists use that look all the time when they're trying to arouse prurient interest. It's an American ideal for female beauty."

"But you're the one who bought this book," Lyndsay said. "You identify with this girl, don't you? You've fantasized about being in her place, haven't you?"

I thought about denying it, but there really wasn't much point. Lyndsay had been there the previous weekend when I was stripped naked, tied up and spanked. She knew that I got excited by that sort of thing.

"Yes," I admitted, "I identify with the girl on the cover. I've often masturbated, fantasizing that I was the girl bound to that whipping post."

"Such honesty," Lyndsay gushed, "I love that. That'll make our relationship so much easier!" She smiled and then set the paperback books back where she had found them. 

Next she went through my closet and my dresser drawers. She didn't like any of my old bras or panties and grabbed all of them up out of my underwear drawer and tossed them in the trash.

"Hey," I protested, but then Lyndsay gave me a look of admonishment.

"I don't ever want to see you wearing old grandma underwear like this again," Lyndsay warned as she kicked the trashcan with my discarded underwear. "It would be far better for you to go around naked than to wear those unflattering things!"

I balled my hands up into fists and had a mind to argue with her, but then she pulled out the big guns and said, "If I catch you pulling any of these out of the trash, I'm going to tell Christina that you were rude and uncooperative. How do you think she'd react to that?"

Suddenly my hands relaxed and I dropped the combative tone. Lyndsay might be my girlfriend, but Christina was my mistress. Christina had far more authority over me than Lyndsay ever would. Christina had almost unlimited authority to punish me if I was bad.

"She wouldn't be happy," I responded meekly.

"No, I dare say she wouldn't," ventured Lyndsay. "I dare say she'd punish you so severely, you wouldn't be able to sit for a week! You probably be so marked up, you wouldn't be able to audition for that talent agency either!"

I had a vision of me, naked with welts and abrasions on my ass, auditioning for a career as a stripper in some talent executive's office. The prospect seemed even more humiliating than the lingerie show I put on for Julie.

"I promise to be good."

"That's my girl," Lyndsay said and then she put four fingers underneath my chin, lifted my head up and kissed me on the lips.

Then she placed her hands gently on my bare shoulders and said, "You're a good girl, Gwen. Now, take your panties off and I'll give you a reward for being so good."

Honestly, I didn't think I heard her correctly. "I don't think I quite understood that last part," I said.

Lyndsay gave me a seductive smile and replied, "Christina banned you from masturbating, but she never banned me from eating you to orgasm. Now, get those panties off and I'll show you just how good I am and bringing good little girls to screaming orgasms."

At this point, I probably should have been concerned that Julie was just down the hall, and the walls in my apartment were thin and did almost nothing to muffle sound, however I was absolutely throbbing with sexual need. I dropped my panties to the floor, and stepped out of them in less time than it takes to blink.