Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 19

"Who did you invite?" I asked my girlfriend as my heart pounded frantically in my chest like a Buddy Rich drum solo.

"I can't tell you, silly," Lyndsay said playfully, "That would ruin the surprise!"

Lyndsay kissed me passionately before she left. I was panting when she broke from the kiss, and then she rolled one of my nipples, getting me good and aroused. She didn't stop until a wave of feverish desire passed through me and both of my nipples were hardening. At that moment the last thing I wanted was for Lyndsay to break physical contact with me, however, Lyndsay and Ms. Knauss walked off, leaving me naked, helpless and sexually frustrated.

I watched as Lyndsay and Ms. Knauss walk across the lawn and became smaller and smaller in my vision until eventually I couldn't see them at all. I looked down at my bound ankles and then caught a glimpse of my pubic lips. They were swollen and unfurled, my sexual arousal would be obvious to whomever Lyndsay had invited over to stare at my naked body. I struggled frantically against the ropes once again but succeeded only in hurting my wrists.

Lyndsay said that she invited someone that I knew. That didn't narrow down the list of suspects very much, I knew a lot of people. If you added up all the people I knew from high school, my old job at the bank and my current job with Riverside Entertainment, I knew thousands of people. And I didn't want any of them to see me like this. I briefly considered screaming out Lyndsay's name and begging her not to humiliate me like this, when I heard a twig breaking. My eyes darted in the direction of the sound and I realized somebody was near, and it wasn't Lyndsay.

She was long-legged, young, blonde and pretty. She wore blue jeans, a V-neck t-shirt and sneakers and as she came closer, I tried to identify her, but she didn't look familiar. It wasn't until I heard the sound of her voice that I knew who she was.

"Well, Gwen, this is quite a fix you've gotten yourself into," she said, a playful smirk plastered across her face.

Colleen Coburn was one of the cool kids back at my old high school. She was beautiful, athletic and was on the track and field team. She was tall, blonde, skinny and hung out with the jocks. I had a crush on her during my senior year. She had amazing abs and a firm, toned ass that I saw repeatedly in tight shorts that were so tight and made of material so thin, they were basically panties by another name. The track and field coach insisted that sprinters and long-distance runners needed such minimalist shorts as part of the uniform as heavier clothing might slow them down. I was never one to disagree. I loved seeing Colleen in those shorts.

"It's Lyndsay's fault," I explained, "She's always getting me into fixes like this."

My explanation is only partially truthful. Lyndsay does enjoy getting me into situations where I'm naked, helpless and humiliated, however, these situations didn't begin with Lyndsay. I dreamed of being stripped naked, abused and humiliated long before I ever met Lyndsay.

"So, it's all Lyndsay's fault," Colleen said. And without another word, her hands were on my breasts and she proceeded to play with my nipples, first brushing her thumbs across them and then rolling them between her thumbs and index fingers.

"Colleen," I said, just barely suppressing a moan.

"Lyndsay said I could touch you all over," Colleen explained, "actually she encouraged it. She wants you to feel all helpless and exposed."

I moaned and began to pant as Colleen's wise fingers worked my nipples and caused my sex to throb in hungry spasms. I hadn't had an orgasm since Ms. Knauss became my disciplinarian and I desperately needed one. What Colleen was doing felt suspiciously like rape, and if I were a decent, virtuous girl I would have been outraged and demanded that Colleen stop what she was going immediately. However, deep within my guts, what I really wanted Collen to do was to intensify her exploration of my body until she brought me to a furious, piercing orgasm.

"What else did she tell you?" I asked, my voice quavering with unease and sexual tension.

Colleen fondled my breasts, my buttocks, my vulva and every other part of my body as she explained how Lyndsay had told her all about my desire to be abused, dominated and punished by cruel, authoritarian women and how Lyndsay had used my desires to turn me into her willing sex-slave.

"In high school you seemed so normal," Colleen said, "I never would have guessed that you were the type to be into ropes and handcuffs and paddles."

"And I never would have figured that you were a lesbian," I said and then Colleen suddenly ceased fondling my naked body, grabbed a handful of my long, blonde hair and pulled it violently back, forcing me to look up at the tree branches above me. Then I felt her hand on one of my inflamed nipples, pinching and twisting it painfully.

"Oww! Ow! Owww! Collen!" I protested.

"I'm not gay," Collen insisted, "I'm bisexual. I had a boyfriend back in high school. Call me gay again and I'll take off my belt and whip your bottom until it's all red and sore."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I screamed repeatedly until Colleen released my abused nipple from her grasp.

"You're the lesbian," Colleen insisted, "You've never had a man's cock thrust deep into this pink slit here."

Colleen had been fondling me all over, including my vulva, but now she thrust two fingers into the gap between my pubic lips and probed around into my most interior. I gasped as her fingers went deep and then her fingertips brushed against my G-spot. My legs were spread wide and I felt helpless as Coleen fingered my defenseless sex, however, it throbbed with hungry spasms. I moaned and I knew that if she continued to work her fingers deep within my vagina, my whole body would soon be shuddering in ecstasy. The orgasm that had been building deep inside my loins for the past few days was now close to the surface. It wouldn't take much for Colleen to unleash it.

"Uhhh, huhh, uhhh, aaahhh" I moaned, and Collen's fingers continued to delve deep inside of me. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and when I opened them, Lyndsay was there with a camcorder, recording my degradation at Colleen's hands.

"Don't let her cum too soon," Lyndsay advised Colleen, "It's more fun if you delay that special moment for a long time. The suspense as she's waiting for an orgasm that may never come is delicious."

I gasped, and my eyes widened as Collen withdrew her fingers from my vagina. I had been so close, and then my mistress snatched my orgasm away from me. Sweat trickled down my torso as my feverishly teased body shuddered in sexual frustration.

"Play with her body some more," Lyndsay urged, "take your time. I'll tell you when she's ready."

My breasts heaved up and down as I panted, but I didn't say a word against Lyndsay. She was my girlfriend and my mistress and rebelling against her just seemed wrong.

Colleen proceeded to touch my body once again, inspecting me quite intimately. She took my nipples into her hands and rolled them between her thumbs and forefingers, watching my face for my reaction as they became swollen, throbbing and erect.

She then pinched both of my nipples cruelly, watching my face intently as she did so. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I gasped, however, I my wrists were bound far apart and above my head, preventing me from protecting my poor, abused nipples for Colleen's abuse.

When Colleen was done tormenting my nipples, she spent a great deal of time examining my sex, pulling my labia far apart, inserting a finger inside of me and probing deeply into every spot inside my vagina that she could reach and smoothing back the hood from my clitoris so that she could examine it more closely.

"Her clit is super-swollen," Collen told Lyndsay, squeezing it between her thumbs and forefinger, "And it's about as hard as a diamond."

Colleen examined me quite thoroughly. She kneaded my breasts, squeezed my buttocks, ran her hands across my taut abs and felt up my thighs. And then she got down on her knees behind me and pried my buttocks rudely apart so that she could examine my anus.

"Her butthole is so pink," Collen observed, "That is so girly."

"Well, Gwen is a girl," Lyndsay said, "or hadn't you noticed?"

Colleen didn't have a response to that, so she continued to explore my naked body with her hands. While Colleen was still crouched behind me, I felt her fingers glide across the swollen folds of my labia and my sex throbbed even more intensely.

I gasped and my thighs trembled and Lyndsay said to Colleen that now would be a good time to give me an orgasm. I groaned as fingers were thrust inside of me. Then I felt them moving around, probing me and discovering every intimate spot within my pulsing vagina.

"Uuhhhhhh," I mindlessly moaned as female fingers worked their magic deep within the delicate, pink flesh of my sex. My clitoris was so swollen it ached and Colleen once again discovered that sensitive spot inside of me. I bit my lower lip as my whole body trembled. Then Colleen had two hands in between my legs, working my clit and my G-spot at the same time.

"Aaaaaaghhhhhhhh," I heard a woman screaming with mindless passion and it took seconds before I realized that it was me.

I felt a jarring explosion of orgasmic pleasure washing through my loins and spreading from my overstimulated sex to my naked torso and thighs and breasts and when I finally stopped screaming my throat was raw.

"Oh God," I exclaimed and my beasts heaved as I panted and recovered from a soul-bending orgasm.

"So, you're saying that you liked being tied up and sexually abused?" Lyndsay asked, of course, she was still filming and had her camcorder pointed directly at me.

"Ughhh," I responded inarticulately.

"Was that an answer?" Lyndsay asked, "I couldn't understand you."

"Oh God, yes," I replied my voice ragged, "I like it."

"See?" Lyndsay said to Colleen, "She likes it. Would you be interested in stopping by several times per week to abuse her?"

Colleen seemed to think that abusing me several times a week was a splendid idea. She agreed to come over every Friday and Saturday and possibly some other days as well. Colleen had Lyndsay's phone number so they could keep in touch and coordinate their plans.

Lyndsay left me tied up and helpless for twenty or thirty minutes as she and Colleen chatted like old friends.

* * *

Lyndsay didn't like to tell me about her plans in advance as she liked to see the look of shock on my face when she sprang one of her schemes on me. Another example of this was the next time I went to visit my mother.

Now, visits to my mother are not unusual. My mom and I get along quite well and we both live in Fairhaven. The commute from Lyndsay's home to my mother's home usually only takes about twenty minutes. Also, my mom knows I'm gay and am in a lesbian relationship. She accepts me for who I am, and she even thinks that Lyndsay would make a great daughter in law.

On this particular day, Julie and Lyndsay accompanied me to my mother's home. Julie is my best friend and has been such since high school.

My mom had recently gotten her roof re-shingled, so we all had to stand outside and take a look. I had to admit, it looked good. It made the house look about ten years younger. She was also looking into making other home improvements, new kitchen counters, new floor tiles in the bathroom and a tankless hot water heater.

"Wow, that's a lot of work," I observed, "I love the idea of giving the house a new look, but are you sure you can afford it?"

"Oh, it's okay," Lyndsay said, "I'm paying for it."

"What?" I said, "You're paying to re-do my mother's home?"

Lyndsay smiled and said, "Well, you and I are really close. And your mom has been really sweet to me. I see her almost like a second mother. I can easily afford it, also...this is your childhood home! A lot of your identity is enveloped in this place, childhood memories and such. I want to see this place appreciated for sheltering you as you grew from a little girl into a woman."

Lyndsay was complicated and confusing sometimes. One minute she was mischievous and the next minutes she was sweet. I adored Lyndsay, but she was unpredictable and puzzling. I could never figure her out.

My mother spent the next hour or so sharing stories of my childhood with Lyndsay, some of them were embarrassing, but most of them were stories that showed that I was a good kid, who was kind of a tomboy, was big into physical fitness, was an inquisitive kid who asked a lot of questions, and was a kid who loved her mother.

My sexual orientation was a secret I kept from my mom until I was twenty-two years old, although my mother figured out the fact that I was gay when I was about fifteen or sixteen years old. She just respected my boundaries enough not to say anything until I was ready to discuss it with her.

So, we drank coffee and shared stories. My mom and Julie both shared stories of the days when I was younger and then there came a knock at the door. My mother got up to see who it was and then she came back with a young woman trailing behind her.

I didn't recognize her at first, but she seemed to know me. She ambled over in my direction, made eye contact and said, "Hey, Gwen."

She was a young woman with stunning good looks. Her dark, brown hair framed her ivory face perfectly, falling down below her shoulders in soft waves. She was wearing a t-shirt that left her tight, sculpted abs exposed and showcased her exceptional breasts. Her breasts were firm, round and larger than mine. A lesser woman might be jealous of her breasts, but I was very secure about my physical appearance.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I asked as I set my coffee down and glanced at the other women in the room for some sort of explanation of what was going on.

"Gwen, dear, this is Tricia," my mom explained.

Realization slowly dawned upon me. When I was growing up there was a girl next door named Tricia, but she was an awkward, skinny, flat-chested girl who rode around the neighborhood on her skateboard and was prone to wearing hoodies.

"Not Tricia from next door," I insisted.

"Oh yes, Tricia from next door," the stunning woman replied, "I've been talking to your friends. They thought it was time for you and me to get back together."

I looked at Tricia in confusion, then I darted looks at Lyndsay and Julie. I barely knew Tricia. She lived next door to me for years, but I was four years older than her, so we didn't really hang out together. When she was twelve years old, I was sixteen and eager to get my driver's license. I had my own social group with other kids my age.

"Wait, Lyndsay, was this your idea?" I asked, turning my attentions to my girlfriend and giving her a suspicious look.

"It was mostly me," Lyndsay confessed, "Julie and your mom gave me background information about Tricia and other people you knew back during your teenage years, but I cooked up the plan all by myself."

"Plan?" I asked and Lyndsay's face broke out into a mischievous grin. I'd seen that type of smile before and it generally meant that Lyndsay was up to no good.

"Well, it works out something like this," Lyndsay said, "I love to make you strip and watch you squirm and get all embarrassed when you're forced to put your naked body on display. And I thought Tricia here would be a perfect person to have as your audience."

My gaze darted back to Tricia and I responded, "What? Tricia? Why?"

"When you lived next door to Tricia, you were the coolest kid on the block," Lyndsay explained, "Tricia wanted to hang out with you and hoped that some of that coolness would rub off on her, but you never had any time for her. I thought that you should be punished for that, Tricia and your mom both agreed."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"It's for your own good, dear," my mother explained, "You always seem to respond well to corporal punishment."

My jaw dropped and for a few moments all I could do was stare at the assembled women in the room. Yes, Lyndsay had a habit of humiliating me by exposing my naked body in front of respectably clothed women but doing this in front of Tricia seemed to be crossing some sort of line.

"Wait," I exclaimed, "can we even do this with Tricia? Isn't she under-age?"

Tricia shook her head in negation and replied, "I turned eighteen in May. I'm an adult now."

I was stunned and discombobulated. When I moved out of my mother's house, Tricia was a gawky, awkward, flat-chested teenager, and now she was an alluring adult that Lyndsay wanted to invite into our sex games?

Breaking the stunned silence, my mother said, "There's a leather paddle in the top dresser drawer of my room. Why don't you go get it and bring it to me?"

I felt like I was in some sort of dream. Trancelike I walked down the hall and into my mother's room. And sure enough, there was a black leather paddle in the top drawer of my mother's dresser. Was this really happening? Was I really going to be spanked in front of my next-door neighbor?

I returned to the dining room and four sets of female eyes stared at me expectantly. A script had been written for me and everyone was anxious to see me follow it. Fear, embarrassment and apprehension roiled around in my stomach however, an erotic tingling permeated my loins and hardened my nipples. I dreaded being stripped and punished in front of Tricia, however, I was also craving the humiliation of being stripped and punished in front of Tricia.

I know, I'm complex and confusing. Even I don't understand me.

With all eyes on me, I walked over to my mother and handed her the paddle.

"I should have spent more time with Tricia when I was younger," I said as I stood in front of my mother, "She lived right next door and I should have made an effort to be friends and include her in my life. My thoughtless oversight reduced the joy of her childhood and I deserve to be punished for that."

My mother pushed her chair back from the dining room table and said, "I'm proud of you for admitting you were wrong, dear. Now take off those pants and I'll administer your punishment."

I took a deep breath, pulled off my shoes and unbuckled my belt. With everyone watching, I unsnapped the front of my jeans, unzipped them and pulled them down to my ankles. Tricia watched every move I made closely, with a hungry look in her eyes.

Then I hooked my thumbs into my panties and I pushed the flimsy garment down my hips and stepped out of them when they got down to my ankles. Tricia's eyes seemed riveted to my vulva. Perhaps she was surprised by my lack of pubic hair, or perhaps she was staring at my pubic area for prurient reasons, whatever the cause, I felt my face heat up with embarrassment when I saw her blatant interest in my exposed pubic lips.

I was about to go over my mother's lap, when Tricia spoke up.

"Um, as the aggrieved party, could I make a request?"

"What is it, Tricia?" my mother asked.

"Could Gwen be totally naked for this? I feel the punishment would be more humiliating if she were totally naked."

"Well, I can't disagree with that," Lyndsay said, "Gwen, take off your shirt and bra."

Yes, the more I thought about it, the more I suspected Tricia was getting a sexual thrill out of all this. I pulled my t-shirt up over my head and then my mother helped me to unfasten my bra. When I was fully naked and exposed, I draped myself over my mother's lap. Tricia, Lyndsay and Julie had arranged their chairs in a semi-circle around my mother to get a better view of my spanking. In my opinion Tricia had the best vantagepoint as she was positioned directly behind me and could see my raised buttocks and my bald pubes peeking out between my legs. As I thought about what Tricia was seeing, it made me feel humbled, embarrassed and aroused.