Gwen: Bound for a New Life Ch. 02

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

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

'Another time?' she asked, between sobs.

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

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

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

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

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

'Oh no,' she cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Where are we going tonight?' she asked.

'To see some friends,' said Gwen.

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

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

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

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

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

'Yes?'

'Nothing,' she said.

'You liked it, didn't you?'

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

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

'Mmmm.'

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

'Yes,' she mumbled, indistinctly.

'Then say it, Laya.'

'I liked it.'

'You liked what?'

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

'And do you want to be whipped again?'

'Oh yes.'

'Then ask. Go on.'

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

'Good.'

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

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

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

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

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

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