Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 16

In the world of slaves, orgasms are strictly rationed. Masters and mistresses prefer to have their slaves in a constant state of sexual readiness. Male slaves are supposed to be constantly hard and erect. Female slaves are supposed to be constantly wet. We're supposed to be constantly feverish and desperate for sex. We're supposed to be grateful for every orgasm.

That's exactly the way it worked in my world. And when Doctor Riemen told Josephine and I that we could touch each other and give each other orgasms, we were both profoundly grateful.

There were two more slaves in the holding cell with us. Like Josephine and I, they were naked, and their bare skin showed signs of harsh punishments. Unlike Josephine and I, their faces were masks of resentment and jealousy. They could only watch as Josephine and I enjoyed each other's bodies.

I gazed over at them sheepishly. I felt a potent sense of guilt that I would be enjoying sexual bliss, while they were left to suffer in sexual need. I could almost have wept for them in commiseration of their sexual misery. Like them, I knew what it was like to feel completely frustrated. To have sexual desire build up within me and be denied any opportunity for release.

Then, Josephine distracted me and took my attention away from the other slaves. She held out welcoming arms, as if inviting me to meld my naked body with hers. I couldn't ignore the invitation. My heart soared, and my loins throbbed. A moment later my hands were on her naked flesh. I kissed her with selfish abandon and her feverishly-hot, naked body rubbed up against mine.

Josephine moaned into my mouth as we kissed and our tongues caressed each other. As we continued to kiss, Josephine's hands moved all over my naked body, my shoulders, the small of my back, my waist, and then they cupped and fondled my poor, punished buttocks.

I gasped, as my butt was still incredibly sore from being repeatedly abused by whips and riding crops. I should have been angry at her for reawakening the sharp, throbbing pain in my hindquarters, but somehow what she did was making me even more aroused.

At some point Josephine's hands found their way between my legs and she palmed my swollen labia. She made a very self-satisfied sound when she discovered my pussy was soaking wet. I moaned uncontrollably and wantonly gyrated my hips as Josephine's fingers played with the swollen folds of my pubic lips.

It didn't take Josephine long before she found my clit, it was hard, swollen and practically had a flashing neon sign advertising itself. It had already escaped from its hood and was begging to be touched.

"Aaaaaaahh," I exclaimed as her thumb rubbed across my ultra-sensitive clit. I spread my thighs even wider and thrust my vulva against her hand. I was throbbing with sexual need and I brazenly encouraged Josephine to play with my pussy and bring me relief.

I heard whimpering and I looked away from my beautiful Josephine to see the other two slaves holding hands and huddled close to each other. One of them had a look of suffering on her face as she watched Josephine play with the delicious nerve-endings in my pussy.

It was cruel to make them watch Josephine and I experience sexual bliss while they were in sexual agony, however, that's part of being a slave. Sometimes your masters force you to endure agonizing humiliations and cruel torments.

The whimpering momentarily distracted Josephine and she stopped playing with my clit. Then, I was the one who started to whimper, desperate for Josephine to finish what she started.

For some reason, Josephine decided to prolong my sexual agony and focused on my bare breasts rather than my needy clit. I was unable to protest, as my mouth temporarily lost the ability to form words. Josephine found my erect, sensitive nipples and proceeded to claim them with her mouth, trapping them between her teeth, sucking on them and battering them with her tongue. Her mouth on my nipples caused an urgent, delicious throbbing that began in breasts, but soon resonated across most of my feverish, naked body.

"Aahhhh," I exclaimed loudly as my nerve-endings were stimulated to the point of madness. I could literally feel my mind slipping away, my entire being was just one bright, burning inferno of sexual heat and then suddenly Josephine was on her knees, planting enticing kisses on my inner-thighs.

My mind wasn't my own anymore as I grabbed Josephine's head and I pulled it forcefully into my vagina. I let out a mindless scream and then began to pant as Josephine began to lick at my needy clitoris and my long-denied orgasm began to break free and rise to the surface.

I thrashed and moaned and when the orgasm finally broke, I screamed incoherently. It was like scores of orgasms all occurring simultaneously. I found it to be overwhelming. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the floor in an orgasmic mess.

One of the other slaves mercifully caught me before the back of my skull hit the concrete floor. She had excellent reflexes, and admirable hand-eye coordination. When I could get my mouth to form words again, I thanked her for her gracious gesture.

"No problem," the slender brunette said as she supported my shoulders and cradled my head, "You would have done the same for me."

I looked into her eyes, they were wide and alert and concerned. She was suffering in sexual misery, but she was still concerned enough about her fellow slaves to try and protect them from potential injuries.

"You're right, I would have," I responded softly, "still, I'm very grateful. What's your name?"

"Petra," she replied softly.

"Petra, I'm Gwen," I said as I looked up into her eyes, "Nice to meet you."

Josephine was annoyed and frustrated that I was paying attention to Petra, instead of her, however she tried to conceal her annoyance and politely said, "Thanks for the save, Petra. I'm Josephine," then she extended a hand to me to help me get my ass up off the floor.

Josephine was only 5'2", but when she looked down at me, she looked intimidating. She was breathing heavy and gave me an admonishing glare. She looked intensely impatient. Apparently, her sexual distress was all-consuming, and she was bitter at Petra and me for delaying her sexual salvation.

Josephine only helped me up to a kneeling position, which put her crotch right about level with my face. It was immediately obvious what she wanted. The folds of her labia and her inner-thighs were glistening with moisture.

I grabbed Josephine's firm buttocks in my hands and clamped my mouth onto her wet sex. She squirmed, and her legs went wobbly as I worked my tongue deep into her warm, moist interior. My poor Josephine made feminine gasping and whimpering sounds as I ate her pussy.

My assault on her wet, throbbing vagina was so intense for her, that she very nearly collapsed. Petra and the other slave grabbed her by the arm and torso in a valiant attempt to keep her poor Josephine from falling over. She moaned and trembled as I dug my tongue in and explored. I darted my tongue this way and that and then thrust my tongue inside of her as deep as it would go.

Josephine cried out like a woman possessed, but I kept working my tongue into her delicious cleft, exploring and discovering the location of her most responsive spots. Her thighs trembled, and she seemed on the verge of falling over, but I continued to work my tongue inside of her and trusted that the other two slaves would keep Josephine upright.

When I located Josephine's clitoris, it was swollen and hard. It had already emerged from its hood, as if it was begging for attention. I took her clit into my mouth and trapped it between my teeth, happily sucking away at it like it was a sweet candy. Josephine panted lustily, as she gripped my head with both hands and roughly pulled at my blonde hair and pushed my skull even tighter against her pelvis.

It didn't take a great deal of time for my efforts to bear fruit. Within seconds there was a sharp intake of breath, a wailing passionate scream, and suddenly Josephine's orgasm ripped through her. The way Josephine squirmed and writhed as she reached her climax was indecent and suggestive, but very entertaining. I'm sure the he Vineyard employees watching us on the security monitors got quite an enjoyable show.

"You two are so lucky," Petra said. She said it so softly I could barely hear her over the sound of Josephine's panting as her chest heaved up and down and she slowly recovered from her powerful orgasm.

"Yes, we are," I agreed. Of course, I had much more than an exciting sex-life going for me, but I didn't mention that. Petra didn't need to know my entire life's story.

* * *

FUN FACT: Even professional strippers with an extraordinary sex life and a multitude of lesbian lovers have parents.

My parents got divorced when I was just a kid, however, my mother and I are still very close, and she invites me out to dinner or shopping or over to her house for dinner at least once a month.

"So, when am I going to get to meet your girlfriend?" my mother asked me as we sat in her dining room, sipping coffee.

"You want to meet Lindsay?" I asked. I immediately felt a surge of panic. I loved Lindsay, however, she was very different from my mother. Lyndsay was extroverted, flamboyant, mischievous, unpredictable and extraordinarily kinky. I was worried that Lyndsay and my mother wouldn't get along.

"I feel like I should," my mother opined, "Lyndsay sounds like a really important person in your life. And if you two get married, she'd be my daughter-in-law."

"Well, okay," I said hesitantly, "but what if you don't like her? I mean, you're my mom and she's my soul mate. If the two of you hate each other, I don't know how I'm going to cope."

My mom made a dismissive sound and then added, "Nonsense. I'm sure I'll love her. Tell me something about her."

"Like what?"

"Well, like what does she do for a living?"

"The question caught me flatfooted. There were so many things about Lindsay that I thought might clash with my mother, I never even thought about her employment history.

"Well, she doesn't exactly have a job," I began.

"What? Sweetheart, you're not supporting her, financially are you?"

The look of shock and concern on my mother's face was almost comical. I really had left my mother out of the loop on Lyndsay! There was so much I hadn't told her!

"No, no, no," I insisted, "I'm definitely not doing that!"

"Well, if she doesn't have a job, how is she paying her bills?" I mother inquired, the look on her face going from deep concern to deep confusion.

"Well, her mother is a billionaire," I stated with as little fanfare as possible, "Allison Brie, of Brie Incorporated. So, Lyndsay is basically living off of her mother's money."

My mom blinked several times and her face went slack. I'd been steadfastly keeping secrets from my mom about Lyndsay as I was still skittish about my mom knowing I was a lesbian. She claimed to be very accepting of my sexuality, however, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any rate, I'd been so secretive about my girlfriend, I never told my mom that Lyndsay was an heiress and the daughter of a billionaire pharmaceutical mogul.

Then, in hushed, reverential tones, my mom said, "My daughter is dating the daughter of a billionaire?"

"Well, yes," I said hesitantly, "but I don't want you to-"

"This is incredible," my mom exclaimed loudly, cutting me off in mid-sentence, "Do you know what this means?"

"Wait, wait, wait," I urgently cautioned, but my mother was on a roll.

"Lyndsay can pay to get my roof fixed," my mother proclaimed excitedly, "Hell, she can pay off my mortgage!"

"Mom, stop," I shouted frantically, "You cannot use my girlfriend as your own personal ATM!"

"Sweetheart, she can afford it," my mom declared emphatically, "She could put a new roof on every house on this block and it would barely even put a dent in her bank account!"

My mom was so enthused and passionate, I almost felt guilty for stomping all over her fervor.

"Mom! Please!" I yelled emphatically, "One of the reasons that Lyndsay's mother likes me so much is the fact that I've never asked Lyndsay or her for any money! She knows that I love Lyndsay for Lyndsay! If I look like a gold-digger, it could ruin everything!"

"Seriously?" my mom asked, "Do you really think that asking for money would damage your relationship with your girlfriend's family?"

"Oh yeah," I replied, "Lyndsay had about a dozen girlfriends before me. None of them felt any sort of emotional attraction to Lyndsay. They were just using Lyndsay to get their hands on the Brie family money. All of that has made Mrs. Brie paranoid about gold-diggers."

"I'm not a gold-digger," my mother insisted defensively.

"Great," I said, "so I'll get you an invite to my girlfriend's house. You can meet Lyndsay and her mother and see how wonderful they both are. Be charming, don't ask for any money, and when December rolls around, I'll see if they can't get you a new roof as a Christmas present."

* * *

Lyndsay is a really important person in my life. Some time ago I moved in with her. She's the first person I see when I wake up in the morning, and the last person I see before I fall asleep at night. She's also one of the most beautiful women I've ever met. She's youthful, slender, graceful, athletic and full of mischievous energy. She had a beautiful, pixyish face, with high cheekbones, a heart-shaped chin and playful smirk-smile that hints at either girlish playfulness or dastardly evil. Sometimes think of her as a much younger, kinkier version of that blonde actress who plays Moriarty on television.

I'm also outrageously kinky. My sexual fantasies all center around dark desires. You see, while millions of girls dream of having a Prince Charming riding in and sweeping them off their feet, I've always dreamt of wicked step-sisters forcibly stripping me naked and punishing me cruelly with a leather strap.

You see, this is another reason I don't want my mother looking too closely at my relationship with Lyndsay. I don't want her to discover that her one and only daughter is addicted to tight bondage, cruel punishments and delicious humiliation.

Lyndsay understands my emotional needs and doesn't think that I'm a freak. Even better than that, she's willing to provide me with all the bondage, discipline and humiliation that I need. She's willing and eager to be the wicked step-sister that I so desperately crave.

And as a bonus, Lyndsay's mother is willing to allow Lyndsay to treat me like her naked slave-girl around the house. There's a delicious throbbing in my loins whenever Lyndsay parades me naked around her mother's house and Lyndsay's mother or the maid catch sight of my sore, reddened buttocks. It's humiliating, but it also sends my heart racing and bursts of feverish lust running through my body.

I remember one Saturday morning, Lyndsay took me down to the exercise room to help me practice my handstands and backflips. I'd gotten pretty good at both of those things, but Lyndsay wanted perfection. She drilled me repeatedly, forcing me to improve my hand-eye coordination, my endurance, my upper-body strength and my artistry. By the time we were finished, my muscles were sore; and I was drenched with sweat.

Of course, when Lyndsay takes me down to the exercise room, she always orders me to strip naked. An evil step-sister would never allow Cinderella to wear clothing during training. Clothing is a privilege that's reserved for respectable, high-class female athletes. I'm just poor Cinderella, a girl to be abused and humiliated by her betters.

At any rate, this Saturday morning after the training session, I went upstairs to the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the fridge. I ended up with Lyndsay behind me and Mrs. Brie in front of me. Both were respectfully clothed, while I was still stark naked.

It was both humiliating and thrilling for me when Lyndsay's mother gazed at my smooth-shaved vulva and my exposed, erect nipples. She didn't gawk at my nudity, but only inquired if I was embarrassed, and asked if I wanted her to give me some privacy while I was naked.

It was humiliating to be totally naked in front of my girlfriend and my girlfriend's mother while they were fully-clothed, however it also filled me with a wicked sensation of sexual excitement.

"It's very kind of you to ask," I told Mrs. Brie, "However, if Lyndsay is going to be an exceptional mistress, I'm going to have to be an exceptional slave. That means I should never complain about having my naked body exposed in front of Lyndsay's mother. And I should certainly never ask for privacy or try to cover up when Lyndsay is putting me on display."

Lyndsay liked my response so much she took me in her arms and kissed me right in front of her mother.

"That was beautiful," Lyndsay said softly after we broke from the kiss.

While we kissed, my back was turned to Mrs. Brie. This meant that she had a perfect view of my bare buttocks and she could see the red and pink marks that Lyndsay had left when she struck my hindquarters with a thin, leather strap.

"Lyndsay," Mrs. Brie said when she saw my reddened buttocks, "is there a reason that Gwen's poor thighs and bottom are decorated with painful-looking red stripes?"

"I use a leather strap when I'm training her in the exercise room," Lyndsay replied, "It's called corporal discipline."

"Those marks look terribly painful," Mrs. Brie told her daughter, "I seriously doubt Gwen did anything to deserve them."

"She has a very beautiful bottom," Lyndsay said defensively, "And corporal submissives need corporal punishment. If I didn't leave painful marks on Gwen's bottom, she'd think that I didn't love her anymore."

"It's true," I added, turning to meet Mrs. Brie's gaze, "If a slave never gets spanked, it usually means that her master no longer finds her bottom desirable."

"And Gwen's butt is high, firm and perfectly shaped," Lyndsay interjected, "It just stands to reason that her butt will get lots of attention."

Mrs. Brie rolled her eyes and said, "You girls are far kinkier than I was back at your age. Back when I was nineteen, we thought that skinny-dipping and French-kissing were the ultimate in sexual fetishes. What is it with kids these days?"

Mrs. Brie wasn't part of the BDSM scene and I think she might even have thought that Lyndsay and I were too good to be playing bondage and discipline games, however, if it made us happy, she was willing to let us continue doing what we were doing. Lyndsay was Mrs. Brie's only child, so she tended to be very indulgent when it came to Lyndsay. And Mrs. Brie thought that I was very good for her daughter.

Up until I came along, all of Lyndsay's girlfriends were gold-diggers or drug-addicts. I'm the first girlfriend Lyndsay has ever had that Mrs. Brie approved of.

She approves of me enough that she periodically checks up on me and makes certain my relationship with Lyndsay is running smoothly.

At one point I was asking Lyndsay if she could send me to the Vineyard to be incarcerated for about a week. Now, incarceration is an extreme thing they have for disobedient slaves who need harsh discipline and cruel punishments. I'm not disobedient, but I really wanted to be incarcerated anyway.

I had an emotional need to go to the extremes at least once. Sort of like athletes who want to compete in the Olympics or scholars who want to be nominated for a Nobel Prize. I wanted to experience bondage, helplessness, discipline and humiliation at the most intense levels that the BDSM community had to offer.