Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 17

"You did quite well," Amesbury confided in me after she had taken the massive dildo away to be washed and placed the implements of torture back in the supply closet.

"Mistress Barletta prefers slaves with self-control," she elaborated, "If you had engaged in endless screaming and begging for mercy she would have been greatly disappointed in you."

"Thank you for letting me know, Mistress," I replied, my voice still shaky and choked with sobs.

"You'll be here for a grand total of seven days," Amesbury informed me, "It's Mistress Barletta's way to punish slaves often, so you can expect your bottom to be red and sore for an entire week."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied.

I was left to hang from the trapeze bar, my body glistening with sweat, my virginal anal cleft felt raw and bruised after being raped, and my breasts and buttocks throbbed with red-hot pain after being whipped, and my loins throbbed with sexual frustration.

And I was delightfully content.

Some women dream of a handsome Prince Charming to marry them and carry them away on a white horse. I dreamt of a wicked stepmother to strip me naked, keep me in helpless bondage, sexually abuse me and use a whip or a leather strap on my bare skin.

* * * * *

Eventually Amesbury lowered me to the ground and released my wrists from the straps. Then she rubbed some sort of oils into my stinging thighs, breasts and buttocks, which made me gasp at first, but after several seconds, the aromatic oils actually seemed to reduce the pain in my abused flesh.

"In a few minutes, I'm going to turn you over to one of the maids," Amesbury warned me, "Don't speak to them unless spoken to, do everything they say and don't argue with them. And just in case you haven't been told already, if any of the employees in this house order you to sexually satisfy them, you have no right to refuse. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied meekly.

The maid's name was Adriana, although she told me that I would be punished if I ever called her by her real name. She said that slaves weren't worthy of uttering her real name.

Adriana put me to work the dining room. I was given two brushes, a cloth and a bucket of warm water and ordered to crawl around on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor.

Scrubbing floors is hard, tedious work, and Adriana made certain that it was humiliating as well. I was naked, on my hands and knees, and Adriana insisted that I keep my legs apart as I worked, thus leaving my moist, swollen pubic lips indecently exposed.

And Adriana was a real stickler for legs-wide-apart rule. She kept a small, leather whip clipped to the belt around her waist. And if my knees ever drifted too close together, she'd unclip the belt and slice the cruel leather across my already-sore backside.

I think abusing me like this must have been a real turn-on for Adriana. After twenty minutes or so of this humiliating labor, Adriana stepped in front of me, dropped her panties, lifted the hem of her skirt and ordered me to use my mouth to bring her to orgasm.

Like any obedient slave would, I hugged my face to her crotch and licked her to a very piercing and satisfying orgasm. She panted lustily for a few seconds after she reached her climax, pulled her panties back up, and with cool disdain, ordered me to get back to work scrubbing the floors.

* * * * *

Of course, a slave's life in Mistress Barletta's household couldn't be limited to just menial labor and sexual servitude. That would be lacking in imagination, and Mistress Barletta was an imaginative sort of woman.

One of the imaginative things that happened at Mistress Barletta's manor house was that the slaves would be exercised five or six times a week by a cruel, athletic woman we knew as Mistress Rickman.

Mistress Rickman was an intimidating woman. She has a body like Julianne Hough, but a face that looked cold and unforgiving. And she shouted out commands at the slaves as if she were a spandex-clad drill sergeant.

She called out commands to the slaves, and we were supposed to force our bodies into positions for her. It was somewhat like yoga, except for the fact that all of the slaves were nude, and Mistress Rickman carried around a wicked, multi-tailed whip to inflict pain on our naked skin if we didn't quickly and accurately put our body into the poses that she demanded from us.

"Exposed pose!" she called out and all of the other slaves assumed the pose quickly, it was a pose that left a slave-girl completely open and vulnerable. It required us to kneel with our legs spread far apart, our public lips utterly exposed, our hands behind the backs of necks, our fingers intertwined, our elbows pulled back and our breasts thrust forward.

I was out of my depth. The other slaves had worked with Mistress Rickman before, and had memorized these positions. This was my first time and I had only been given few seconds of explanation of what the poses looked like before Mistress Rickman began to put us through our paces.

"Wall pose!" she called out, and the other three slaves rushed across the lawn and leaned against the retaining wall with their arms straight, hands pressed flat against the wall and legs indecently far apart. This pose left all the slaves completely exposed and placed our buttocks prominently on display, leaving us all vulnerable for corporal punishment.

"Punishment pose! Humble pose! Kneeling pose!"

Mistress Rickman had us go from one pose to another rather rapidly. All four of us worked up a sweat, however, I was the only one who ended up with stinging red marks on my skin from not being quick and graceful enough as the exercise mistress cruelly put me through my paces.

"Inspection pose! Exposed pose! Waiting pose!"

Then, there was the hands pose, this was a pose where the slave squats with her legs far apart. balancing on the balls of her feet, chin up and hands raised as if presenting them to be cuffed.

The endurance pose was very similar. It also required the slave to squat with her legs spread far apart, balance on the balls of her feet, chin up and hands behind the back of her neck, fingers intertwined, elbows pulled back, and breasts thrust shamelessly forward.

Both of these were very arduous and uncomfortable poses to hold for long periods of time, so naturally Mistress Rickman had us hold these poses for long periods of time..

She worked us like that for hours. By the time we were finished, my muscles ached, I was covered in sweat, I was exhausted and my thighs, my ass and even my breasts throbbed with scalding pain from the cruel, punishing blows I'd taken from Mistress Rickman's whip.

After we were done being exercised, we were turned over to the maids. The maids washed and fed us, and then I was informed that we were expected to serve dinner to Mistress Barletta and her guests.

Dinner had already been prepared and the food was all in bowls, on platters, serving trays or in some sort of fancy containers. As slaves, we just needed to carry the food out to the dining room when Amesbury told us to.

It was while I was naked, sore, exhausted and serving dinner to Mistress Barletta and her well-dressed, elegant guests, that's when I saw Lyndsay again.

It was the first time I had seen Lyndsay since the two of us had arrived together. We had been separated immediately after arrival, and Lyndsay had been treated like an honored guest, while I had been treated like a naked sex-slave, to be worked, punished and abused.

And as I served food to Lyndsay, Mistress Barletta and her elegant guests, I felt my heart beat too fast, my nipples harden and my sex throb with hungry spasms. The contrast between the way my girlfriend and I were being treated was unfair, but the unfairness of it all felt delicious and incited a pulsing fire in my loins.

"Ah, this is the one I was telling you about," Mistress Barletta said as she motioned theatrically towards me, "This is Lyndsay's slave, Gwen."

Master Hiddleston and Mistress Lewis were the two well-dressed, elegant dapper guests who spoke with posh, British accents. As I served food to them both, their hands wandered all over my naked body, felling my buttocks with their hands, cupping my breasts as I leaned over to set my serving tray on the table and even reaching between my legs to palm my smooth pudenda.

"She's soaking wet," Mistress Lewis commented as she wiped her hand on a cloth napkin, "It's obvious that life as a sex-slave agrees with her."

"And it's obvious from looking at her ass, that she's been whipped recently," Lyndsay observed, "Gwen, who did that to you?"

"Mistress Barletta's manor house has a personal trainer to supervise the slaves as they exercise, Mistress," I replied, "She carries a whip and uses it on us if we do not perform to her satisfaction."

Lyndsay gasped and then said, "That is an excellent idea! We should get you a personal trainer like that when I take you home!"

I wasn't certain if Lyndsay was serious or not. She's famous for being mischievous and teasing me mercilessly. She loves to play any sort of game that will make me blush or squirm.

Of course, I was already blushing. I was stark naked and serving food to a well-dressed man and four well-dressed women. They were all sitting there, openly ogling my bare breasts, erect nipples and swollen pubic lips. And of course, my reddened ass got people's attention as well.

"Gwen, stand up straight when you're not setting platters or trays down on the table," Mistress Barletta admonished me, "Slave-girls should always have excellent posture. With a straight spine, your breasts will be more prominent. Yes dear, like that. That's much better."

Any deficiencies or mistakes in the way we served the guests were reported to Amesbury, and after we had cleared away the last of the dishes, washed and dried them, Amesbury would punish us. It was an extremely unfair system, but one doesn't become a slave because she wants to be treated fair.

* * *

After all the dishes had been washed and all the slaves had been punished, a maid came into the kitchen with a message.

"Mistress Brie is requesting that the slave named Gwen be brought up to her room."

Amesbury nodded at that and turned to me. She took me by the arm and led me over to the maid.

"This is Gwen," Amesbury said, "I can't leave the kitchen just now. Will you be able to take the slave to Ms. Brie yourself?"

The maid had no problem with this and just like that I was released from Amesbury's custody and given to the maid. The maid drew my arms around behind my back and then clipped my wrist bands together. Then she marched me upstairs and led me to Lyndsay's room and gave me words of advice.

"Mistress Brie is going to want to use you for sex," the maid advised me, "As a slave, you do not have the right to refuse her sexual advances. If any of the guests want to have you sexually, you will be expected to accommodate them. That goes for everyone on Mistress Barletta's payroll as well-the medical staff, the security guards, the kitchen staff, even the maids. If we want to use your body for sex, you are expected to be obedient and do whatever is requested of you. If you refuse, or hesitate, you'll be punished."

"Yes, Mistress," I said obediently, feeling my pussy throb slightly from the way she was talking to me.

"Don't speak unless spoken to," the maid added, "Don't make suggestions and don't ask for favors. Let Mistress Brie do all the thinking. You're just a warm, naked body to be used. Let Mistress Brie make all the decisions about what it to be done to you."

The grip on my arm was tight as the maid led me to Lyndsay's room and told me how to behave. She was so strict, dictatorial and merciless, she made me feel deliciously subjugated and under her thumb. She was very pretty, about my age, my height and my build. She and I had a lot in common even though she was wearing a sharp-looking uniform and had her freedom, while I was utterly naked and had my wrists locked together, helplessly behind me. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look that her status was far superior to mine.

The maid stopped at one of the guest rooms and knocked. Lyndsay answered the door and spoke to the maid while ignoring me.

"Bridget, thanks for bringing her so quickly," Lyndsay said warmly, then looking at me she said, "She's adorable, isn't she?"

"I've seen a lot of slaves in Mistress Barletta's household," the maid replied, "Every single one of them has been beautiful. Although I think there's something special about this one. She radiates a certain something."

"I know what you mean," Lyndsay said. Then she grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me so I was face-to-face with the maid.

"Bridget, would you like to feel her up before you go?" Lyndsay asked the maid, "You seem to be quite fond of her."

Bridget smiled warmly at Lyndsay. Then she reached out and took my breasts into her hands, caressing them, squeezing the, and stroking my sensitive nipples with her thumbs. I whimpered as her touch sent tingles radiating throughout my body. Then the maid thrust her hand between my thighs and played with my swollen pubic lips.

I gasped as she touched me down there. My clit was terribly hard, swollen and sensitive, however no matter how much the bold fingers touched me there, she was unable to bring me to climax.

"Spread your legs wider," Lyndsay admonished me, "You're supposed to keep your body available for free-women like Bridget. Don't ever hide your sweet, shaven vulva from us."

I spready my legs and the maid proceeded to become even bolder. With her thumb and two fingers she reached into my sex and forced my pubic lips very far apart. Then with her other hand, she located my throbbing, swollen clitoris and rubbed a fingertip across it, smoothly gliding back and forth.

I trembled and moaned. It seemed an orgasm was inevitable, but the drug blocked me from reaching the sexual relief I so desperately craved.

"Okay, Bridget," Lyndsay said when I was whimpering and my legs were so wobbly I could barely stand, "I think I'd like to be alone with my slave now."

The maid left dutifully and Lyndsay ordered me to go inside and stand near the bed.

Lyndsay closed and locked the door. When we were alone, she turned to me and said, "That was fun. I quite enjoyed loaning you out to the maid."

"Yes, Mistress," I said in a tremulous voice.

"You know, we do have a maid at home," Lyndsay said suggestively, "If I offered to loan you out to her, I wonder if she'd be interested. Is she even into girls?"

Lyndsay was referring to Dasha. Dasha had worked in Lyndsay's home for as long as I'd known her. I had no idea if she was into girls. She was officious and reserved. She'd never given anybody any hints about her sexual preferences.

"I don't know, Mistress."

"When we get home, we'll have to find out," Lyndsay replied, "I think it would be deliciously kinky to loan you out to her."

She was enthusiastic and had a mischievous look in her eyes. When Lyndsay got playful like that, it was usually a sign that she was up to no good. I held my breath and waisted to see what she came up with next.

"But in the meantime," Lyndsay continued, "we'll just have to have fun without her. And I've decided to start tonight's fun with this."

Lyndsay walked over to her bed, reached underneath the pillow and pulled out a butt plug. My fear of being anally penetrated kicked in automatically, and I recoiled at the sight of it.

"Mistress, no," I protested, "Please!"

"Good slaves don't argue with their mistress," Lyndsay said somewhat playfully, "Good slaves are obedient and accept whatever fate their mistress has planned for them."

Lyndsay then coated the tip of the plug with lube and ordered me to spread my legs so she could lube up my anus as well.

When Lyndsay was done lubricating my asshole, she took the silicone plug and slid it into my tight anal cleft. She slid it in and out of me a few times, getting a feel for how tight I was. I panted and then came the uncomfortable sensation of my sphincter muscle being stretched and strained to the limit as Lyndsay forced the widest part of the anal plug into my rectal orifice.

"Aaaghh," I grunted and once the widest part was in, the rest slid in automatically.

"As your mistress, I should own every part of your body," Lyndsay insisted, "You shouldn't be allowed to keep anything from me, not even that tiny hole between your adorable butt cheeks."

I whimpered in response to that. I had asked Lyndsay to take me to a place where I'd be punished often, humiliated, abused and treated cruelly. I'd even begged her to take me to such a place. I could hardly complain that she'd done as I'd asked.

When my anus had been speared and the plug had been worked deep into my ass, Lyndsay ordered me to kneel.

I already felt helpless and vulnerable with the silicone plug deep up my ass. Kneeling while Lyndsay stood above me made me feel even more vulnerable.

"Is that how a slave kneels?" Lyndsay admonished me, "A proper slave should kneel with her legs spread wide. A proper slave-girl would strain her thighs far apart to put her pussy on display as much as possible."

I forced my knees even further apart and looked up at Lyndsay. She looked down at me and began to remove her shoes and other items of clothing.

Even after Lyndsay took off her high-heeled shoes, her straight pants and her panties, I still felt helpless...after all, I was utterly naked, I had a plug shoved up my ass, my hands were bound helplessly behind my back and my legs were spread lewdly apart, leaving my swollen pubic lips indecently exposed.

I whimpered as Lyndsay stood over me and she responded, "I love it when you make that sound. I need to figure out ways to make you make that sound more often.

"Yes, Mistress," I said timidly, and I knelt there awaiting orders...or possibly the next humiliation. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment, my pussy throb and my heart race. Being made helpless and humiliated by a strong, self-confident woman like Lyndsay always filled me with a dark, delicious excitement.

Then Lyndsay took my head in both of her hands and pushed my face into her crotch and said, "Now, use your mouth to make your mistress happy. And if you do a good job, I won't tell Mistress Barletta how you complained earlier."

I positioned my mouth around Lyndsay's vulva and licked hungrily at her inflamed labia. Her nether lips were already puffy and moist before I began, and my teenage mistress began to moan seconds after I began my ministrations.

I'd licked Lyndsay's pussy before, and it tasted different this time. There was something exotic about her flavor this time. I liked it. It was deep and mysterious, and I wondered if there was something about seeing me abused by a professional dominatrix that altered her flavor. Can a woman's mood or emotional state alter the taste of her pussy? I'd have to research that at some point when I wasn't bound, naked and helpless.

Lyndsay twitched and squirmed as I worked my tongue deep into her cleft. Lyndsay gasped, panted and pushed me away for a few seconds before yanking my head back into her crotch and telling me to get back to work.

I knew Lyndsay had to be close to orgasm. Her firm thighs were trembling, and she made soft, feminine cooing sounds. She held my head close to her vulva as I kissed the pink, swollen lips of her inner labia and tasted her secretions. I kissed Lyndsay's inner labia, and she soon reverted from soft cooing to panting and sharp inhalations of breath, I kissed harder and then separated her pubic lips with my tongue.

Once my tongue was firmly inside her pink, warm, dripping sex, Lyndsay's breathing became rapid and urgent. Without being told, I removed my tongue from inside of her sex and sought out her swollen clitoris.