Cheryl's Passion Ch. 13

Being a slave-girl is emotionally and physically exhausting. After three days of being used as a naked plaything by twelve different women, I was spent. April and Stefania loaded me into the car, and I passed out from fatigue long before we ever got home.

I'm not even sure how I got into the house. When I awoke, I was lying in April's bed with no memory of how I got there.

"Stefania carried you in," April explained, "She's a lot stronger than she looks.

"And who undressed me?" I asked. I had been respectfully clothed when I got in the car, but I realized that I was now stark naked.

"That was mostly Stefania," April explained, "although I helped a little bit."

"Should I be helping to unpack?" I asked and I groggily began to sit up in the bed.

April placed a hand between my breasts and pushed me back down.

"You can help with the unpacking and the laundry tomorrow," my mistress insisted, "For right now, I am ordering you to get some sleep. Slaves need to be well-rested if they're going to be doing manual labor. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied.

It didn't take me long to drift off to sleep. In my dreams I lived in a foreign country where wealthy people owned slaves, it was illegal for slaves to wear clothing and naked slaves could be found on public streets and in public buildings. In my dreams, April or her mom would take me out in public, naked, with a leather slave collar buckled around my throat, and pull me along by a leather leash. People would greet my mistresses and say things like, "Your slave is so adorable! May I touch her?"

When I awoke from my dream, I placed my hand gingerly around my throat and was slightly disappointed when I realized there was no slave collar.

* * *

"When we are done here, I take you down to laundry room," Stefania said as I stood in the bathtub and she shaved my loins with a safety razor.

"I have already unpacked and taken dirty laundry down there. You will sort laundry, delicates will be one pile, jeans and t-shirts will be separate pile, towels will in another pile. I will supervise. If you make mistake with the laundry, I will have to punish."

My legs were spread wide and Stefania took her time shaving my pubic area, running her fingers from the top of my slit down to my asshole, examining me carefully for any pubic hairs or stubble that she might have missed. My labia were visibly swollen, and my sex was wet. And Stefania had accidently slid her thumb across my swollen clit three times already. And then her talk about punishing me made my poor, needy sex throb even more.

I kept my hands obediently behind the back of my neck as Stefania shaved me, however, I found myself gasping involuntarily as industrious fingertips touched me in my most intimate places. My heart pounded and my vagina pulsed with feverish, libidinous yearning.

April likes to keep her slaves in a constant state of sexual frustration and yearning. She says it helps to keep slave obedient if they're constantly craving a sexual reward from their mistress. As I stood naked in front of Stefania with a constant wet pulse between my legs, I felt inclined to agree. I would do anything April asked of me if she would just give me a little sexual relief.

I was panting lustily and my legs were trembling, when I heard April's voice calling from down the hall, "Cheryl! I've got bad news!"

April opened the door to the bathroom, popped her head in and said, "Cheryl, you need to get dressed. My Uncle Ed is coming over."

My mouth hung open for a few seconds, and then (much to my surprise) Stefania and I simultaneously asked, "Who is Uncle Ed?"

"Uncle Ed is a relative," April responded, "Ever since my Aunt Nancy died, he's been emotionally needy. He's been traveling around the country, dropping in on family and friends. He just spent a week with my cousin in Reno and now he's coming here."

April took about a second to savor my exposed nudity and then she added, "Uncle Ed isn't cool with homosexuality or BDSM, so Cheryl, you need to get dressed, and we need to hide all the bondage gear."

Down the hall I could hear Mrs. Ladd call out, "Cheryl should probably stay with her mom for a few days."

"Stay with my mom?" I asked, somewhat crestfallen at the idea of being forced to wear clothing and act like a normal, boring, conforming member of American society.

"Would it not be better for her to say with Prue?" Stefania asked, "She has asked more than once if she can have alone-time with Cheryl."

April's eyes lit up and she said, "Good point! I forgot all about Prue!"

Then April stuck her head out into the hallway and called out, "I'm gonna call Prue! Cheryl can probably stay with her until Uncle Ed leaves!"

April got her phone and called Prue. I was stunned at how eager Prue was to let me stay in her home. I first met Prue back when we were both students at Fairhaven High School. I had no idea that Prue had a crush on me back then, and apparently, she still has a crush on me. I was April's slave, but if April was willing to lend me out, Prue was happy to take me.

April dressed me, giving me a pair of panties, a bra, socks, running shoes, hip hugger blue jeans and a crop top that left my midriff bare. April was expecting I'd be gone for anywhere between five and twelve days, so she also packed me a bag with several changes of clothes.

* * *

Prue lived with her mother, in a single-family home in the suburbs. Her home was in a very friendly-looking neighborhood where many of the residents rode bikes or jogged and were very approachable. It seemed as if everyone welcomed you and had a smile or a friendly wave for you, even if you were a total stranger.

Prue's mother was no exception to that rule. She dispensed with formalities and insisted that I call her Nat.

"My friends all call me Nat," she explained, "and seeing as how you're friends with my daughter, I'm sure we'll become friends too."

Nat was an excellent host. She asked me if I had eaten breakfast yet, and when I told her I hadn't she got me a mug of coffee and then she sliced a bagel in half, toasted it and spread generous amounts of cream cheese across both halves before handing it over to me.

"Your mom seems nice," I told Prue, after her mother had left the room.

"My mom is a real people person," Prue conceded, "She likes having guests over. She'll smother you with attention if you let her."

"I see no downside to that," I replied as I licked cream cheese off my fingers.

"So," Prue said, raising her eyebrows at me, "you're in no rush to get back to April."

I took a sip of coffee and considered my words carefully. I loved April, and didn't want to say anything negative about her, however, I was already forming a strong emotional bond with Nat. I loved them both in different ways.

"I adore April," I said after a sip of my coffee, "and I just met your mother a few minutes ago, but I think she's wonderful."

I took another sip of my coffee and added, "And I'm delighting in the way your mother feeds me. As part of my slave-training, April put me on a strict diet. She doesn't allow me to have caffeine or anything fattening."

"I guess when you became a slave, you didn't consider there'd be dietary restrictions."

I shook my head in negation and chewed my bagel. Then both Prue and I were surprised when we saw Nat back in the kitchen. Nat carefully poured coffee into a travel mug and said, "Cheryl, are you seriously saying you're somebody's slave?"

I stopped chewing and the room went silent. The only sound I could hear was the blood from my own heart pounding in my ears. Nat was delightfully friendly and wholesome. I didn't think there was a way I could explain to her why I voluntarily entered into a relationship where I was a slave that belonged to a teenage lesbian mistress and a teenager's mother.

"Um, well I, um," I stammered and felt my face grow hot with embarrassment. My mouth went dry and I felt faint. I tried desperately to think of a way to make my kinky lesbian slave/mistress relationship sound innocent, but my brain wasn't cooperating.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Prue's mother said, "Listen, I have to get going, but we'll talk more about this, when I get home from work."

Nat kissed her daughter on the cheek and she swiftly departed. I just sat there with a stunned look on my face.

When I heard Nat's car drive away, I turned to Prue and asked, "Your mother isn't really going to ask me about my sex life when she gets home, is she?"

"Yeah, she probably will."

"Oh God," I moaned miserably. We were both silent for a while and then Prue said, "She's never had a lesbian sex slave as a guest in her home before. Now that she's got one. She's going to be curious."

"This is going to be awkward," I complained.

"Look, my mom won't be home for hours," Prue said, "Rather than obsess about how awkward it will be to discuss your sex life with her, how about we do something fun?"

Taking my mind off of the inevitable discussion sounded good to me. I raised an eyebrow and said, "What sort of fun are we talking about?"

"Well, let's start by taking you to the mall and doing some clothes shopping. You know, sometimes when I'm feeling all stressed out about something, I go out and buy a cute top or a fun skirt, and I have a whole new outlook on life."

"You think that'll work for me?"

Prue placed a hand on my shoulder, gave me an erudite look and said, "I think that you're brave enough that you'll come with me to the mall so that we can find out together."

* * *

I had been dubious, but it turned out that Prue's idea was an excellent way to get my mind off my troubles. I got a really cute black and orange blouse with flare cuffs that was on sale.

Then we went to a store that sold exercise apparel. I got a sports bra and some yoga leggings that went perfectly with the crop top I was already wearing.

"I'm going to rock this look," I confided to Prue. She seemed to agree but asked, "Where you gonna wear it? An important factor of rocking a new look is to have a huge audience of jealous haters and adoring fans."

* * *

We ended up going to Stark Fitness. Apparently, Stark Fitness is a health club chain that only sells health club memberships to females. Apparently, there are large numbers of women who do not like the idea of men staring at their ass when they use the elliptical trainer or other exercise equipment. The founder of Stark Fitness noticed this and decided to capitalize on this revelation. Soon, they were collecting gym fees from millions of women who wanted to work out without being ogled. And now they're raking in money hand over fist.

I didn't have a health club membership at Stark Fitness, but Prue did. She was allowed to bring in guests as long as they signed in and listened to a fifteen-minute sales pitch before they used the equipment.

It was an excellent sales pitch. They have aerobics classes, kick-boxing classes and spin classes. They also have weight-resistance machines, elliptical trainers, treadmills, stationary bikes, free weights, an Olympic sized swimming pool, and four hot tubs.

Okay, so I signed up for a one-year membership.

Prue took me down to the locker rooms and I changed into my new exercise clothes and spent several seconds admiring my new look before Prue dragged me upstairs.

A fitness instructor named Jennifer was doing a spin class that day and according to Prue I just had to take it.

"Jennifer is the best," Prue gushed, "If you miss her class you will just hate yourself!"

Prue was so enthusiastic about me experiencing Jennifer's class that I eventually signed up for it just from the sheer intensity of Prue's emotions.

Jennifer was a young, athletic, attractive woman with impressive legs, tight, four-pack abs and youthful vigor. She shouted and gave words of cheerful encouragement to her students from beginning to end. She pushed us hard, but she was so friendly and so supportive, you didn't want to quit no matter how overtaxed you felt. Even though I had just met Jennifer that day, I was emotionally-invested in her approving of me and I just kept pushing myself, because I didn't want to disappoint her.

"Good work, ladies," Jennifer called out to us when the class was over, "I'm proud of all of you! Good job!"

My legs felt rubbery and I was covered in sweat after spin class, and Prue got me a bottled water. I gulped it down and then Prue led me back downstairs to the shower room.

Prue and I shared a locker and we both headed for the showers once we were naked. I caught a few of the women in the locker room checking me out. I discovered that I didn't mind it when the women in the club studied my naked body. If a man looked at me that way, I would have felt violated, but when other women did it I felt a surge of pride and a slight pulse of excitement.

A few of the women in the club would pretend to heading to the pool or the towel racks so they could walk past me and surreptitiously get a look at my exposed nudity. They tried to be subtle, but I seemed to have an instinct for sensing when I was being watched and evaluated.

When my shower was over, I grabbed a towel to dry off and one of the braver women approached me and introduced herself.

"Listen, you don't know me. My name is Josephine, and you can tell me if I'm being too forward, but those marks on your skin, are those whip marks?"

I felt my face burn hot and I twisted around and checked myself out in the mirror, looking for the marks Josephine was talking about. Most of the marks from my recent whipping had faded, however, there were still a few wicked-looking marks on my buttocks and the backs of my thighs. How many other women had noticed those?

I couldn't think of a convincing lie on short notice, and Josephine was just standing there, waiting for a reply, so I finally decided to just tell her the truth.

"I was whipped yesterday," I replied softly, "I thought the marks had all faded by now."

"Apparently not," Josephine replied softly, "Are you in an abusive relationship? Do you need help? Just say the word and I can protect you. I can help you escape."

I smiled. Josephine was a total stranger, but she was being very helpful. I took an instant liking to her.

"You're very sweet," I said, "but I don't want to escape. I'm in a sexual relationship that's heavy on bondage and discipline. The punishments can be severe sometimes, but it's all very consensual. I don't want the punishments to stop."

"Ah," said Josephine, a look of relief washing over her face. Her shoulders relaxed and her posture changed. She had been all ready to rescue a damsel in distress, and she went instantly at ease when she realized rescuing wouldn't be necessary.

"Okay, sorry to have bothered you," she said. She was about to walk away, but that's when Prue drifted over and saw the two of us together.

"Jo," she said to Josephine, "oh my God, do you and Cheryl know each other?"

"We just met," Josephine said, "What about you? How do you know Cheryl?"

"She and I met back in high school," Prue replied, "We've been friends for years."

This wasn't strictly true. Yes, Prue and I did go to the same high school. Yes, we did know each other back when we were in high school together, but we were little more than classmates. I barely knew her back then. It wasn't until April conspired behind my back to add people to our B&D sex games that Prue and I became close friends. So, really, we'd only been friends for about six weeks or so.

"So, how do you are Cheryl know each other?" I asked Josephine.

"We're gym buddies," Josephine replied, "We've done classes together, and once when I strained a muscle in kickboxing class, Prue helped me make it downstairs so I could soak in the hot tub."

"Yeah, well, Prue is a great girl," I said, looking over at Prue. I couldn't help but notice that Josephine and Prue were both wearing clothes while I was still stark naked. Something about that triggered my libido and I decided to get dressed before my swollen pubic lips and erect nipples became obvious and made my aroused state obvious.

I made my way over to the lockers and got my clothes. Josephine and Prue chatted while I got dressed. They attempted to talk in hushed tones, but I still heard most of what they said.

As I got dressed, I heard Josephine ask, "So, did you put those marks on Cheryl's backside?"

"No, that wasn't me," Prue insisted, "There was a lady named Stefania who was responsible for that."

"So, Cheryl has a mistress named Stefania?"

"No, Cheryl has a teenage mistress. Stefania is a woman in her early thirties who was sort of hired to be a kind of assistant mistress or slavery-supervisor or something. I'm not sure of her official title."

"Seriously?"

"The whole situation is kinky as a Roman orgy," Prue assured her friend, "I've never in my life seen anything quite like it.

"A mistress and an assistant mistress? Sounds like overkill."

"If you think that's overkill," Prue said, and then her voice got quieter as she shared secrets about my bizarre sex life with Josephine. I strained my ears to catch what they were saying about me, but to no avail. Prue was being very hush-hush. I could only guess what she might be saying.

"Shut up," Josephine hissed in a sudden outburst that was loud enough everyone in the locker room could hear.

"It's true," Prue insisted, "I could never make up a story that bizarre."

I finished getting dressed and made my way back over to Josephine and Prue. Josephine's face was flushed, and her facial expression seemed to be a mix of shock, confusion and delight. I was having a difficult time reading her, so I was uncertain what to say next.

Then she leaned into me so close our faces were almost touching and whispered, "You're a freak! I love it!"

"Um, thanks?" I said uncertainly.

"Your life is so much more exciting than mine. You have to come over some night and regale me with stories of your life."

* * *

I wasn't comfortable with the idea of spending an evening at Josephine's house and entertaining her with tales of bondage, humiliation and cruel punishments, however, I also wasn't comfortable with telling people "no". As a result, I ended up promising to visit Josephine later that week to regale her with intimate stories of me being stripped naked, bound, sexually abused and subjected to harsh corporal punishments.

Josephine wasn't really part of the BDSM crowd. She was more like an outsider, a tourist, peeking in through the window of a private club. My way of life was an entertaining curiosity to her, and I was worried that explaining my life to her was going to drain a lot of the magic out of it.

Prue and I had lunch at a Vietnamese place. Prue ordered a bowl of pho that was so huge neither one of us could have eaten the whole thing, so we shared. Prue took advantage of our proximity to each other and would engage in public displays of affection, like kissing me on the cheek or caressing my hand with hers when teaching me how to use chopsticks.

This led to curious stares from other diners. Prue beamed with pride any time she noticed someone watching. The idea that people saw us as a romantic couple was a huge ego boost for her. Prue had a huge crush on me and loved it when people saw me as her girlfriend.

We left the place holding hands. Prue had a bounce in her step as we walked, she was as happy as a little kid at Disneyland.

Prue was all smiles and girlish joy as we made our way across the parking lot, and then I heard a voice call out, "Cheryl? Is that you?"