Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 05

"You did well for a first day," Sandy said to me reassuringly, "I'm going to make you into quite an erotic dancer when I'm finished with you."

"Yeah?" I said, somewhat surprised that she wasn't already finished with me. I thought I'd already learned enough to be an erotic dancer.

"Come back tomorrow afternoon at two," Sandy told me, "I'll teach you some more moves."

We had been practicing for over two hours and my body was glazed with a fine sheen of sweat. I really needed a shower. My pussy was also wet and thrumming with sexual arousal. Much to my surprise, presenting my pussy and my ass for close inspection as I performed my dance moves for Sandy was an intense turn on! If Sandy noticed, she was too polite to say anything and she just bid me goodbye and let me have my privacy while I went to go change in the locker room.

When I got undressed, I realized that my yoga leggings had a wet stain on the crotch. Apparently being trained by Sandy to display my body in a sexualized way was turning me on enough to get soaking wet between my legs. I hoped that Sandy hadn't noticed. Luckily I had gotten sweat stains on my clothes as well, so maybe Sandy would have assumed that it was sweat she saw on the crotch on my skintight leggings, and not leakage from my over-excited pussy.

* * * * * * * * * *

I came home and I think Julie was at class. I was all alone in the apartment and had total privacy. My clit was aching with sexual need; and I really, really wanted to finger myself to orgasm; but I was forbidden to masturbate, according to Christina's orders. And I was really, really determined to be obedient to Christina. I had spent so many years dreaming of an evil step-mother who would abuse, humiliate and punish me. Now that I had one, I didn't want to screw things up by disobeying her orders.

I tried to ignore the throbbing need between my legs, got undressed and grabbed a cold shower. It didn't kill my libido completely, but it calmed it down to manageable levels.

After I stepped out of the shower, I toweled off and looked at myself in the mirror. When this month began, I was a self-identified heterosexual with a nice, boring, respectable job at a bank. Now I had a lesbian girlfriend, I was in training to become a stripper, and I had a lesbian mistress I had to report to on the weekends! The girl in the mirror looked the same as the respectable girl with the respectable job and the respectable reputation, but now I was some sort of weird lesbian/sex-slave/stripper hybrid.

I thought; with such massive changes in my life: I should look different.

"You're still Gwendoline Schön," I told my reflection.

My reflection didn't disagree with me. I took that as a good sign. Maybe my slide into wanton libidinousness was just a new direction in my life, and not something I needed to worry about.

Of course, Julie chose that moment to re-enter the apartment. She called out my name and I grabbed an oversized t-shirt from my room and slid it on. It was large enough that it came down to mid-thigh on me. It was almost like wearing a dress.

"Hi, Julie," I called out and went out to greet her. As per usual, she was cheerful and perky. I don't know how she does that. I mean, it's normal to have problems, worries and bad days, but Julie is never grumpy or depressed. How does she do that?

"Hey," Julie said, "I grabbed us some dinner on the way home. I hope you're in the mood for Chinese."

She handed me a bag from Kung Pao Bistro. The smells emanating from it were heavenly. My tummy growled in anticipation.

"Mmmmmm," I said in appreciation, "I'll get some forks and plates."

Of course, Julie wanted to know all about my first class at "stripper school". I tried to make it sound as mundane as possible, but Julie was fascinated and wanted more and more details.

"A lot of it is just moving your pelvis," I said, trying to sum up the entire class in a few words, "Most of the time a girl doesn't think about her hips or her pelvis, but my dance instructor was teaching me all these dance moves that are mostly designed to call attention to that area of your body. It's almost like you're demanding that people pay attention to your nether regions."

"Makes sense," Julie commented, "I mean, isn't that how strippers make money? Getting people to think about sex?"

"Think about sex, obsess about sex, fantasize about sex, pretty much, yeah," I replied.

From there the conversation drifted to Julie's attempts to write up a speech for me to give to my mother about being a lesbian. Julie had already written up a second draft and she handed it over to me, so I could give her my opinion of it.

It was a pretty good second draft.

It talked a lot about Lyndsay, and how Lyndsay was supportive, loyal and helpful. It talked about how much I loved Lyndsay and how I was certain my mom would love her, once the two of them met. It used words like "charming" and "adorable" and "sweet".

It didn't say anything about me having sex with her, which I thought was a nice touch. I think I might have died from embarrassment, if I told my mom about Lyndsay planting her face between my thighs and lapping me to orgasm.

"It's good," I told Julie, but; at this point; I was unwilling to call my mom and tell her that her only child was a lesbian. I needed some time to work up some courage first.

* * * * * * * * * *

Before I knew it, Saturday morning rolled around and I had to fulfill my obligation to Christina and show up at her house.

Christina had told me I needed to wear clothes that showed off my high, firm buttocks, so I ended up wearing yoga leggings that hugged my thighs and ass like a second skin. They wear comfy as hell and showed off the shape off my ass, just like Christina wanted. To top it off, I added some running shoes and a fitness tank top that was made of Nylon, Spandex and Lycra. It was almost as tight and form-fitting as the yoga leggings.

My heart was pounding like a drum and my throbbing pussy was 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.

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. She was definitely establishing a theme here. A "Woman in black with dark fantasies" theme, I decided.

"Welcome back, Gwen," Christina said, looking me up and down and licking her lips, "I'm glad to see that you weren't scared off by my treatment of you, last weekend."

I was scared of Christina, but that was part of what made her so exciting and attractive. My fantasies about being a damsel that was abused by her evil stepsisters always had an element of fear in them. Fear was one of the spices that made my sexual fantasies so delicious.

I didn't say any of that out loud, I just submissively avoided making eye contact and replied, "I promised to make myself available to you every weekend, Mistress, and I always try to keep my promises."

"How perfect," Christina said, smiling, "It's so rare to see someone so young, with such a strong dedication to keeping their word. You're to be commended on your ethics."

Then she invited me inside and, before I could make it more than ten feet beyond the front door, she told me to do a slow, 180 degree turn so she could examine me from every angle.

"Adorable," Christina said, praising my physical appearance, "Those yoga leggings show off the shape of your ass quite nicely. I expect you to dress like this every time you come to see me."

"Yes, Mistress," I responded, holding a pose that left my ass facing her and allowed her to examine the way the tight fabric of the leggings hugged my buttocks and made them available for anyone to look at.

I felt one of her hands, fondling my right buttock through the thin spandex material. Then her hand slid down to grasp my upper thigh before cupping my buttock once again and squeezing it, testing its resiliency.

"Shouldn't I be taking my clothes off now, Mistress?" I asked, remembering how I had been punished last weekend for not stripping naked as soon as I entered Christiana's home.

"An excellent question, Gwen," Christina said, complimenting me, "Ordinarily, you would be naked already, however today we are going on a little trip and you'll need your clothing for a little while longer. If you were seen naked in public, you might be arrested for indecent exposure, and that would ruin the plans I've made for today."

"A trip?" I asked. I had made a deal to be humiliated, punished and sexually violated in Christina's home. There had never been any mention of traveling anywhere else. Where were we going? And why hadn't Christina warned me in advance that she was taking me somewhere? Shouldn't I be warned in advance about stuff like this?

"There's someone very important I need to introduce you to," Christina informed me, "And doing it here wouldn't have the right sort of atmosphere. So I'm taking you to her home."

"What? Whose home? Who are you introducing me to?" I asked suddenly panicky. It was scary and traumatic last weekend when my old high school vice principal saw me stripped naked and spanked in Christina's house. Who else was Christina planning on humiliating me in front of? I squirmed in Christina's grasp and struggled to make eye contact with her.

"Oh no," Christina admonished me, "Good slave girls don't ask so many questions. Now, be a good little Cinderella and stop being so nosy, or else I'll have to gag you while we're in transit."

She used her stern, disciplinarian voice. That voice made my heart beat faster and my pussy throb. It was the sort of voice that the evil stepmother used against Cinderella in my most potent sexual fantasies of dominance and submission. In the presence of that voice, all of my resistance crumbled and I surrendered utterly to Christina.

"Now, place your hands behind your back, little slave-girl. I'm trying to set the proper mood for this meeting, and it will give a good first impression if you're bound for your introduction."

Christina's car was parked out in front of her house. I'd have to walk approximately fifty feet to make it from her front door to the passenger seat of her car. It was a short distance, but a lot of people might notice a girl with her wrists bound behind her back during that short distance. And it was a Saturday morning! Most of Christina's neighbors would be home from work today! There odds were very good that one of more of Christina's neighbors would witness my submissive humiliation!

"But, what will your neighbors think, if they see me?" I asked, hoping Christina would reconsider.

"Who cares what they think?" was Christina's blunt response, and that was that.

With a heavy sigh, I surrendered to Christina's superior resolve. She was much more strong-willed than I, and I knew I would always obey her. I placed my hands behind my back, and felt her hands crossing my wrists, one over the top of the other. Then; as if by magic; Christina produced a long length of rope. I sighed and obediently waited while Christina wound the rope around my passive wrists, crossing and crisscrossing them and then knotting the ropes into a complex of tight bindings I knew I could never untie. The final, vicious knot was tugged tight where I had no hope of reaching it and was a silent announcement of Christina's control over me.

Christina's strong hands turned me around so I was facing her. Almost instinctively, I cast my eyes downward. There was an unspoken; yet understood; rule that a Cinderella never looked an evil stepmother directly in the eye. Direct eye contact would be a sign of equality, and Cinderella would never be the stepmother's equal.

And when Christina's strong thumbs and forefingers grasped my nipples through the fabric of my tank top, I did not protest. As a Cinderella, I could expect my nipples to be abused, pinched and hurt, but instead Christina rolled them between her fingers and tugged on them aggressively. I moaned as Christina's talented fingers spent a great deal of time stimulating my nipples and bringing them to full, swollen, aching attention.

When my nipples and clit were both throbbing and my breathing was labored, Christina finally declared that I was ready to go and be introduced to her person of great importance.

Christina grabbed by the arm with one of her strong hands and marched me across her front lawn and out to her car. As I predicted, my bound wrists did not go unnoticed.

One of Christina's neighbors was on the front lawn of the house next door. She was a young athletic girl. She looked to be about nineteen years old and was wearing shorts, cleats and a navy-blue t-shirt while playing with a soccer ball.

The girl had excellent control of the ball. She would bounce it off of her left knee, her right knee, her head and her right foot in rapid succession, never allowing the ball to touch the ground.

Then she noticed Christina and me and noticed the ropes that bound my hands behind my back. I'm guessing that the girl wasn't used to seeing women in her neighborhood bound with ropes. She lost her concentration and allowed the ball to fall to the ground and roll across the lawn towards the street.

"Good Morning, Miss Ward," the athletic girl said timidly. She was speaking to Christina, but she was staring directly at me.

"Good morning, Robin," Christina called out cheerfully, as she opened up the passenger side door of her car and assisted me in sitting down in the passenger seat. I was amazed at how awkward and difficult the simple act of getting into her car was without the use of my hands. Then she fastened the seatbelt tightly around my waist, effectively trapping me inside the car. I couldn't get out now if I wanted to.

"Going to college in the fall?" Christina cheerfully asked the girl.

Robin was looking extraordinarily befuddled. She responded to Christina's question (with great difficulty), but she couldn't take her eyes off me.

"No, my grades weren't good enough," Robin replied with a hollow tone of voice, "I'm gonna end up working in my father's sporting good's store."

"Oh, that's too bad," Christina said sympathetically, "College is usually so good for a girl. It really broadens your horizons and introduces you to so many new ideas and so many different types of people."

"I guess," Robin replied softly, not really seeming to listen to the words coming out of Christina's mouth."

The longer Christina and Robin talked, the longer I was on display. What must this girl think of me? She saw me leaving Christina's house with my hands tied behind my back! Did she know this was a B&D type thing? Or was she assuming it was something else? My heart beat faster and my face felt flush at the idea that Robin might know I was Christina's lesbian submissive. Did she know? Did she suspect? What did she make of me and my bound hands?

Eventually Christina got into the car and drove away, leaving Robin and her bewildered stares behind. Christina refused to tell me anything about her important person that I needed to meet, and we spoke very little while I sat in the passenger seat and imagined the worst.

When we finally arrived at our destination, Christina stopped the car in front of a rustic modern estate in Augustus Beach. There was an iron gate at the entrance of the estate and we had to be buzzed in. I didn't know who this important person was that Christina wanted me to meet, however they must have quite a lot of money to be able to afford to live in this place!

The lawn on the estate was huge, lush and green. I estimated there to be two or three acres of land on this estate. I could only imagine the costs of maintaining such a huge lawn, and there was an extensive network of hedges and a grove of trees off in the distance. The people who lived here probably needed to hire an army of gardeners to maintain all of this.

Christina parked the car, undid my seatbelt and helped me out of the car. My hands were still tied behind my back, so there was quite a few things I couldn't do for myself, however Christina made no effort to untie me, and just led me towards the house with my wrists still tightly bound.

We were met by a middle-aged woman in a flawlessly sculpted bandage dress. Despite the fact that she was old enough to be my mother, she had a sort of elegant beauty about her. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup was perfectly applied and her body was toned and shaped. I suspected that she had a personal trainer, a professional hairdresser and a tailor to help keep her looking this good.

"Christina, it's so good to see you again," the elegant woman called out enthusiastically. Christina walked into a warm embrace and the two women hugged like they were old friends.

"And this must be the young woman you told me so much about," the elegant woman said, noticing me for the first time. She hugged me as well, although with my hands tied behind my back, there was no way I could hug her back.

"Her name is Gwen," Christina said, as the older woman hugged me close.

"Hello Gwen," the woman said as she released me from the hug, "My name is Ruth Taylor. Has Christina told you anything about me?"

"Um, no. Not really," I replied. I knew absolutely nothing about this woman, other than the fact that she obviously came from money. Her dress probably cost more than I made in an entire week working at my old job at the bank.

"Well, Christina, shame on you," Ruth said, with exaggerated passion and then turning to me, she said, "Christina is my niece. Much of what she knows about the world of bondage and discipline, she learned from me. I'm sort of the bad influence in the family."

"Oh," I said, not certain what the proper response was to such a statement.

"Christina has brought a number of young, submissive ladies to my home, but none of them were as adorable as you. You are absolutely stunning! I can see why she's so taken with you."

"Um, oh thank you, Miss Taylor," I said, somewhat taken aback by this revelation. I was pretty sure that most nieces and aunts didn't share information on their kinky sex conquests.

"Please, call me Aunt Ruth," she said, enthusiastically, "You and I are practically family! The bond between a submissive and her mistress is at least as strong as the bond between husband and wife, so you and my niece are practically married! Now turn around and let me see how my niece has bound your wrists."

Overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all, I sighed and I turned my back to Aunt Ruth and let her examine how Christina had tied my wrists.

"Oh, Christina, you've done a very admirable job. This is quite a professional tie."

"I had a very good teacher," Christina countered, returning the compliment.

"So, you taught Christina how to tie girls up?" I inquired.

"Well, someone had to teach the poor dear," Aunt Ruth explained, "Christina's mother wasn't going to teach her anything at all. That woman doesn't understand anything about the world Christina lives in."

"Luckily, I had an aunt who understood all too well," Christina added.

"Yes, Christina dear, you were very lucky. Some young ladies are destined to never live up to their full potential because they never have a mentor to teach them, however you had me and now Gwen has both of us."

"Um, so you're going to teach me things?" I asked.

Aunt Ruth laughed a charming, elegant laugh and then said, "Oh, my dear Gwendoline, I have so many things to teach you! You are a darling of a submissive girl, but you're so inexperienced! You've barely taken your first steps into the world of BDSM! There's so much more for you to learn and experience!"