Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 17

I was naked, barefoot, sexually excited and my wrists were bound behind my back. Meanwhile, Mistress Barletta was dressed charcoal-colored tweed and she sat in her chair with the imperious air of a queen presiding over her kingdom.

"Has she been processed by Doctor Ponder?" Mistress Barletta asked, and I immediately fell in love with her voice. She spoke with an educated middle/upper class English accent, and it seemed to exude authority. I couldn't conceive of ever disobeying that voice.

"Yes, Madam," Amesbury assured her employer, "The slave was given an adequate dosage of libidol and Doctor Ponder manually incited her libido until she was in an advanced case of sexual distress."

"Did she, indeed?" inquired the autocratic woman. Then, inclining her head towards me, she said, "Come closer, slave-girl. I wish to examine you."

I found this woman to be both terrifying and exciting. The staccato in my chest tripled, I felt a swarm of butterflies in my stomach and my nether regions felt feverish with heat.

And then I walked across the hardwood floor and stood close enough that Mistress Barletta could touch me and do anything she wished to my bound, naked body. Naturally, the very first thing she did was reach between my thighs and thrust two fingers into the tight seam between my swollen labia.

"Aaaghh," I gasped as she forced my pubic lips apart and her fingers probed deep into my throbbing sex. I could feel one hungry spasm after another as Mistress Barletta's strong, forceful fingers mercilessly explored the interior of my vagina. I panted as her fingers brought my libido to a feverish boil, but no matter how much those demanding fingers stroked and probed my insides, I could never quite seem to reach the orgasm that my body desperately craved.

"It must seem terribly unfair to you," Mistress Barletta said to me in a soft, cultured tone of voice, "to have your sexual passions agitated to such stratospheric heights, only to deny you any sort of orgasmic release."

"Uuhhuhh," I gasped inarticulately. My body was so feverish and overstimulated, I was temporarily incapable of responding with words.

"It's what masters and mistresses expect when they send their slaves to me," she explained with a calm, gracious tone of voice, "They expect me to take their slaves and subject them to extremes. They expect me to take naked playthings like you and make certain that you experience bondage, helplessness, discipline and humiliation at the most intense levels that the BDSM community has to offer."

I continued to gasp and pant as Mistress Barletta probed my wet, throbbing sex and examined the delicate folds of my labia. She spoke to me in a calm, polite tone of voice, however, I didn't hear most of the words that came out of her mouth. The sound of my own heart urgently beating inside my chest seemed to drown her out.

"Of course, when I get a fledgling slave-girl like you, there's something of a ritual," she explained, "It's sort of an initiation, a ritualistic thing to make certain that you fit in with the other slave-girls and feel a sense of solidarity."

Focusing on Mistress Barletta's words was almost impossible. I felt helpless and feverishly aroused as her hands continued to explore the most intimate parts of my anatomy. She fingered the swollen folds of my labia, pulled them apart and inspected me from my vagina to my anus, while my thighs were spread far apart, and my wrists were bound behind my back.

"Amesbury," Mistress Barletta called out imperiously, while she continued to mercilessly play with my pussy, "where are the other slaves right now?"

"They're being supervised by the maids, Madam. Justine and Angel are being made to do menial tasks in the kitchen, while Riley is in one of the upstairs bathrooms, scrubbing floors and the like."

"I see," replied Mistress Barletta, "Well it is time for them to meet the newest addition to the household. I'll be taking this one to the Punishment Chamber. Gather up the other slaves, make certain that they're presentable and bring them to me."

"Of course, Madam," the butler replied, and she turned on her heel smartly and marched out of the room.

Mistress Barletta rose up from her chair, reached for my slave collar and hooked her index finger into the stainless-steel ring in the front. As she pulled on the ring, I had no choice but to walk forward in whatever direction she pulled.

"Malory, would you like to join us?" Mistress Barletta asked as she turned to her guest, "I think you might find this to be educational, or at the very least it should be an enjoyable diversion."

The woman in the tulle dress rose up out of her chair and smiled.

"I think I would enjoy it very much," Malory replied brightly, "Lead the way."

My hands were still bound behind my back, so it was awkward and arduous. I was walking naked through the corridors as Mistress Barletta mercilessly pulled me forward by the ring in my slave collar. If Malory felt any sympathy for my plight, she gave no evidence of it. From the sound of her voice, she seemed quite pleased with the way Mistress Barletta was treating me.

"Her buttocks are utterly flawless," Malory exclaimed as she walked behind me, "I'm jealous of how high and firm they are."

"Would you like to touch them?" Mistress Barletta asked as she continued to lead me by the ring in my collar.

"Oh, may I?" Malory asked. She was so buoyant and enthused, she sounded like a small child at Disneyland.

"Of course you can," Mistress Barletta replied in a casual manner, "She's a slave. You may do whatever you like to her. There's no need to ask for her permission."

And so I was dragged into the Punishment Chamber. It was a large room, and contained several devices designed to hold a naked slave while various torments were inflicted upon their anatomy. There was a metal bar that lowered from the ceiling via electric motor and possessed a leather cuff dangling from each end. There were four posts solidly set into the ceiling and floor, to which a naked slave might be tied spread-eagle. There were two whipping frames. There was also a pillory with the yoke set at just the right height to force a slave to bend over. If a slave were locked into that thing, their bare buttocks would be sticking right out, a blatantly inviting target.

"The trapeze bar, I think," Mistress Barletta said, right before she led me over to the suspended metal bar.

"Help me to uncuff her, would you Malory?"

I had been told that the leather cuffs on my wrists weren't to come off during my time in Mistress Barletta's home, however Malory and Mistress Barletta freed my wrists long enough to buckle my wrists into the leather cuffs that were attached to the trapeze bar.

"Once her arms are raised sufficiently, you can fondle her buttocks," Mistress Barletta assured her companion, "or any other part of her anatomy you find appealing." Then she walked over to a control panel and pushed a button.

The trapeze bar began to rise, and my body was stretched taut as I was raised up as well. Mistress Barletta didn't stop the bar from climbing until my bare feet left the floor. I looked down at my dangling legs and then up at my bound wrists. I assured myself that I was utterly helpless.

The well-dressed woman who adored my buttocks finally got her wish and began to fondle my bare flesh with her hands. She began by fondling my ass, taking one buttock in each hand, squeezing them, pulling them apart and stroking the soft skin with her fingers.

"Her skin is so soft," Malory enthused, "but the muscles underneath her skin are so hard and firm! Her body is so delicious and adorable! She's perfect!"

The well-dressed woman proceeded to run her hands leisurely over my breasts and then down my naked body, carefully examining every nook and cranny with her fingertips. She enjoyed the experience of exploring my body immensely and narrated the experience with great passion, detailing aspects of my body and expounding on why she adored them so much.

This enthusiastic fondling probably would have continued for half an hour or more, however, Amesbury interrupted Malory's fun when she arrived in the Punishment Chamber with three naked slave-girls in her custody.

Of course, all three females were women of breathtaking beauty. All three were slender, with flat, toned stomachs, narrow waists, firm, delightful breasts and high cheekbones.

Not everyone in the BDSM community has the sort of classic good looks that these women had. However, their masters or mistresses were all quite wealthy. And with wealth comes the ability to demand only the best when choosing a slave-girl.

"Attention, ladies," Mistress Barletta called out to the newly-arrived slave-girls, "Today, a new slave joins our family. Her name is Gwendoline, and she comes to us without any handprints, blemishes or markings to indicate that she's ever suffered whippings or any sort of corporal punishment. Does that seem fair and proper to you?"

The three slave-girls all responded in a way that seemed scripted and well-rehearsed. "No, Mistress," they all responded simultaneously.

"I thought not," Mistress Barletta replied imperiously.

Then she turned to her butler and said, "Amesbury, go to the supply closet and retrieve whatever implements our young ladies need. For the next hour they are at liberty to punish and abuse Gwendoline in whatever manner they deem fitting."

I squirmed in my bondage and gazed over at the naked females who would soon be tormenting me. At 5'9" I was taller than any of them. And with all the physical training I'd done, I was probably stronger than any of them, however, being naked, bound and at their mercy, they all suddenly seemed large and intimidating to me.

I looked at the women who were destined to be my tormentors and felt helpless. My naked body hung from the trapeze bar so that I felt painfully stretched, especially my arms, and I felt a tightness in my chest as my heart sped up and beat expectantly.

One of the women was a blonde and looked to be about eighteen or nineteen years old. She also had the sort of tan that I associate with the beach-dwellers of Malibu and Santa Monica. One of the women was a redhead and looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties. She had pale skin and nipples that were adorably pink.

The last woman was a strawberry blonde and was taller than the other two. She was the first to walk over to Amesbury and asked her for an implement that she could use to inflect pain upon my naked body.

"I would like a leather strap, mistress," the blonde said politely, "like the one you used on me yesterday."

As the butler handed out wicked-looking implements to all three women, I noticed that all three of them had painful-looking, fresh red stripes across their shapely thighs and buttocks. The redheaded slave even had some stripes across her breasts and belly that I didn't notice until she was standing up close.

It occurred to me that these women were experts in how much punishment a woman could take. A mistress usually punished a slave to produce tears or an emotional reaction, however, a slave who has endured a great deal of punishment would know that a slave could take much more than that. It was possible that they would be crueler than Mistress Barletta.

"I'll bet the men love those wonder-woman-sized breasts of yours," the teenager said, and she looked maliciously into my eyes, "What are they, c-cup?"

I looked down at the blonde teenager and noticed that her breasts were considerably smaller than mine. They were firm and round and cute, just not overly large. I thought they were adorable, but they were probably two cup sizes smaller than mine.

"I think your breasts are very charming," I said as I began to sweat, "but yes, they are. I'm a c-cup, but it's not like we're competing against each other."

"I'm going to whip them," the teenage slave said to me, "And don't try to talk me out of it. The whole reason you're here is so you can be punished."

Amesbury gave the teenager a small whip with nine leather thongs dangling from the leather-bound handle. The mischievous teen gently stroked the leather thongs across my nipples, inciting them to become hard and erect.

"You'll soon regret having such impressive boobs," the teenager warned me and then she walked over to Mistress Barletta.

The red-haired slave appeared in front of me next, she didn't have a whip in her hands, however, I grew nervous at her approach nonetheless.

"You're very cute," the red-haired female assured me, and then she slid her fingers between my thighs and rubbed at my swollen clitoris. I gasped and thrust my hips forward. It was an automatic reaction on my part. The drug Doctor Ponder had given me made it impossible for me to achieve orgasm, but my body responded to the wicked hand anyway.

Fingers dipped in and out of my vagina and I moaned helplessly. I hung there in my bondage, panting, sweating, my heart racing and my loins throbbing with sexual need, but no matter how much the wicked redhead probed my pussy with her talented fingers, I could never reach the sexual climax I so desperately craved.

"I like you," the redhead whispered softly to me, "but I have orders to make you suffer."

I whimpered and my hips jerked spastically, however, I understood. Slaves never disobeyed orders. Disobedience led to more punishments, and slaves usually received enough punishments even when they didn't disobey.

After Amesbury had supplied everyone with the implements they had requested, there was a disturbing interval during which all three naked slaves leisurely circled me, like a trio of wolves circling a deer before they attacked.

As I watched them circle me, I became hyperaware of my nudity, my helplessness and my vulnerability. I panted, my breasts rose and fell dramatically and I felt fear, but it was a dark delicious fear that fueled a libidinous, pulsing fire in my loins.

"What are they waiting for?" asked Malory as she watched from several yards away.

"Making a slave wait can be a punishment all its own," Mistress Barletta explained, "Being bound and not knowing when the first stinging blow will redden their skin can cause tension and suspense to build up. It leaves the slave feeling fearful and unsettled before the whipping even begins."

"Ah, psychology," Malory responded, "How ingenious! I would never have considered that!"

It wasn't long after Malory gave Mistress Barletta that compliment that I felt the first lash of the leather strap across my bare bottom. It came again very quickly, and then again with a loud, cracking noise.

The leather strap sliced across my buttocks, reddening my naked flesh and burning with hot, bright pain. I gasped, raised one leg up but quickly put it back down. As the blows slapped across my naked skin, I writhed, jerked and squirmed. As a matter of pride, I attempted not to scream. I writhed, gasped, moaned and kicked like a woman possessed, but stubbornly stifled my screams.

I was panting, writhing, and my buttocks and thighs were throbbing with white-hot, burning pain, but no matter how much I writhed or kicked or struggled in my pain, the leather straps held me. It made me excruciatingly aware of how helpless I was. My legs were free to kick, and I could thrust my hips in a few different directions, but I was utterly powerless to protect myself.

The slashing of my bare bottom seemed to go on for hours. Sometimes the blows would come rapidly, one after another. Other times they would come slowly, giving me a chance to savor the pain and let it fade to a dull burning ache before the next blow hurt me. The pain was scalding, but the more helpless and abused I felt, the more my sexual excitement increased.

And when my bottom was throbbing with red-hot, stinging pain, the red-haired slave spread my tender buttocks apart, and lubricated my delicate pink asshole. I whimpered as I felt her fingers touching me there and attempted to look over my shoulder to see what she was doing.

The beautiful redhead took a huge flesh-colored dildo and she thrust it brutally into the soft flesh of my anus. I trembled and tears welled up in my eyes as the red-haired slave-girl proceeded to rape my poor, tight, innocent asshole, roughly and repeatedly.

I have a phobia about being anally penetrated and soon tears were splashing down my face. I couldn't stop the tears, my chest heaved, and I whimpered as I was consumed with feelings of helplessness and humiliation.

"Fuck her harder," the teenage slave-girl suggested, "If she's going to be a sex-slave, she should be able to take a cock up the ass."

Then the cock in my anus was thrust into me harder and more mercilessly. I gasped and whimpered and shed more tears, but the woman who was impaling my ass with her large, unrelenting cock showed no compassion for my suffering. And as my hips were thrust forward by the cock in my ass, other women grabbed my ankles, spread my legs apart and I felt even more helpless and violated.

And the wider my legs were spread, the larger the thing in my ass felt. I moaned and gasped, and the red-haired slave pushed the phallus deeper into my ass than I would have believed possible. After what seemed like hours, she finally removed the instrument of rape, and I gasped as the absence of the thing made me feel unexpectedly empty.

I was trembling, feverish with lust, drenched with sweat, my buttocks burned with bright hot pain, and my anus was stretched and sore but they weren't finished with me yet.

The malicious blonde teenager palmed my exposed vulva before roughly pinching one of my swollen labia.

"It's not easy being one of Mistress Barletta's slaves," the inhospitable teen informed me, "It's important that you learn that."

I had deduced that already, however, the lithesome teenager apparently was keen to drive that point home with an overzealous passion. I was already naked, helpless and in pain, however, the malicious teen stood in front of me and with her multi-thong whip and proceeded to provide more proof of the adversities that slaves must endure.

The naked teen she stepped back and swung the leather whip squarely across both of my vulnerable breasts. I gasped, then cried out in pain. I writhed and kicked out so violently that the other women lost their grips on my ankles. My body reacted blindly to the searing pain shooting through my poor, innocent breasts.

The teenager's mouth twisted into a wicked smile, then she exclaimed," Oooooh, that was beautiful! I like the way you squirm!"

With my arms bound high above my head, my breasts were thrust out in an open invitation for the hateful teenager to whip them, and of course, that's exactly what she did. It hurt when my poor bottom was whipped, but this was much worse. My ample breasts made easy targets for the cruel girl, and they burned with hot, bright pain as the girl sliced her whip across them and made them bounce.

I wriggled and squirmed when the hateful whip struck me. My wrists chafed and warned me that I was struggling far too hard, but I had lost control of my body's reactions. As the cruel teenager sliced again and again at my twin orbs, her whip splatted liquid fire and, and my body recoiled in uncontrollable agony.

After an eternity Mistress Barletta told my tormentor to stop, however, my reddened breasts continued to burn with hot, bright pain even after the sadistic girl handed the whip back to the butler.

Tears continued to splash down my face, and my young chest heaved as I sobbed. Mistress Barletta decreed that I would be left to hang in my bondage for at least another twenty minutes, and she got up to leave.

I was dazed, panting and my breasts, buttocks and thighs were all throbbing with white-hot, burning pain. Amesbury remained with me while I sobbed, however, everyone else left the Punishment Chamber shortly after my whipping was over.