Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 22

One of my customers was Jenna London of KMPN Channel 5 News. She was throwing a party for some of her friends in the news media, entertainment media and local government. And a surprisingly large number of her friends were fans of the BDSM scene.

Jenna was a classic Playboy centerfold sort of beauty with long legs, brown hair, large, round eyes, lovely bone structure and cheerleader breasts. I could see why KMPN wanted her to be the face of the evening news.

She was also charming and amiable. I took a liking to her almost immediately. Before putting me to work, Jenna wrapped a motherly arm around my waist and proceeded to give me a congenial tour of her home. It was an impressive looking home with a sunroom, a deck with a 6-person hot tub and a scenic view of a majestic lake.

At the end of the tour we ended up an expansive room with no windows and eerie lighting. There were two-dozen chairs at one end of the room and a portable stage on the other end. Resting upon the stage was a bondage device I recognized as a whipping frame.

"This is the room where you'll be entertaining my guests," Jenna explained, "You'd best take off your clothes now."

When Jenna was giving me a tour of her home it felt almost as if I were an old friend who had dropped by for a social visit. I relaxed into that role, then she shifted gears and it felt more like I was her slave and she was my overseer. I was caught off guard when the dynamic between us changed, but once I recovered from the abrupt change, I began to unbutton my blouse.

I had taken off my blouse and was just unzipping my skirt when a middle-aged woman in a maid's uniform entered the room. She didn't seem to be the least bit surprised to see me stripping naked in front of Jenna.

"Gwen, this is Petra," Jenna said, "Give your purse and your clothes to her. You'll get them back at the end of the evening."

Petra watched me carefully as I continued to undress. She didn't say anything, but I got the impression that she was silently judging me. When I was fully naked, the last item I handed her were my panties. Petra and I were the same height, but as I stood there naked and she stood there respectably dressed and held my clothes in her arms, I felt as if she towered over me.

I suppose it was because we were suddenly unequal. I was naked and the maid dressed. My naked breasts were exposed to her gaze and my exposed pubic lips were swollen and leaking moisture. Her status became superior to mine when I stripped naked and surrendered my clothes. That's why she suddenly seemed taller.

And after the maid left the room I turned to Jenna and saw that she was openly scrutinizing my naked anatomy with prurient interest. Then she smiled warmly and said, "You're even more beautiful than Noel said."

She was looking directly at my bald pubic lips when she said it. Did she and Noel discuss what my pubes looked like? The very thought suddenly made me feel more naked than naked.

Rather than say any of this out loud, I merely replied, "Thank you."

"You'll be spending most of the evening bound to that whipping frame," Jenna explained, "We may as well strap you into it right now."

I dutifully allowed her to bind me spread-eagle to the whipping frame. It's a very shaming way to bind a girl. I had to spread my arms and legs far apart, leaving my breasts and vulva as completely displayed as possible. I looked out at the sea of empty chairs and imagined them filled with women eagerly ogling every inch of my naked flesh.

"My guests should start arriving shortly," Jenna informed me, "If things get too intense, you can use the safe word, 'mercy' and I'll put a pause on things."

Then she added, "But don't be too quick to use it. Every woman in the audience tonight will be a potential client. The more you're willing to suffer on my behalf, the more likely they'll be willing to hire you themselves."

"I'll do my best," I said, my heart beating faster at the thought of how much suffering I might be asked to do. Jenna seemed to be hinting that a lot of suffering was going to be required of me.

"You really are adorable," Jenna said as she stepped in close and kissed me warmly on the lips. This wasn't part of the evening's entertainment. This was Jenna indulging herself. I kissed her back and parted my lips to allow her tongue to enter my mouth. We kissed passionately for a few minutes, and then we were interrupted by the sound of the maid's voice called for Jenna's attention.

"I apologize for interrupting," the maid said, "but the first of your guests has arrived."

That's when Jenna left me alone on the stage, and went to go play the good host. Social pleasantries were exchanged, compliments were given, some of the women hugged in friendly greeting. All the women were dressed in fine, fashionable clothes, which stood in stark contrast to my nakedness.

I recognized some of Jenna's guests. One of them was a political commentator over at MSNBC, one of them was a famous actress who had just gone through a nasty divorce, one of them was a fitness model and spokesperson for Stark Fitness, and one of them was the deputy mayor of Augustus Beach.

I didn't recognize all of them, but in all twenty-four women showed up to witness my humiliation. They were dressed stylishly in designer gowns, tuxedo dresses or custom-tailored skirt suits. As the room filled up with well-dressed, elegant women I felt more naked and exposed than ever.

At some point the socializing ended, and Jenna called out, "Ladies, if you will take your seats, the festivities will begin."

Things happened rapidly after that. The esteemed women took their seats and became an attentive audience, while Jenna glided gracefully on high heels over to a shadowy corner of the room where whips and other wicked-looking things hung from hooks on a wall.

She selected a leather whip that was wicked and narrow and glided back towards the stage. All eyes in the audience focused on her as she announced, "This is Noel's new project. Her name is Gwen."

There was a murmuring among the crowd. There'd heard of me. It seemed as if I had a certain degree of fame.

"She's obviously quite beautiful," Jenna continued, "and brave."

At this point she brushed the whip lovingly across my naked body, using it to caress my bare breasts, my abdomen and one of my thighs. I closed my eyes and held my breath. If she whipped any of the areas she was fondling, the pain was going to be agonizing.

"But Noel has promised me that she also has an abnormally high pain tolerance," Jenna proclaimed to the crowd. "Tonight, we put that promise to the test and see if this girl is the rare treasure that Noel claims."

There was more murmuring from the crowd. Jenna allowed them a few seconds to exchange their opinions before cutting through the noise and calling out, "Gwen has a beautiful bottom. It seems almost a shame to mark it up. But in the interest of verifying Noel's claims, we have to."

There was an immediate and enthusiastic agreement from the ladies in the audience and Jenna raised the whip up where it was conspicuously on display. When it was raised to my lips, I kissed it without being told.

Jenna then disappeared behind me and the women in the audience leaned forward, eager for the first crack of leather across my naked ass. I tensed in anticipation. I get sexually aroused from whippings, spanking and similar punishments, but I fear them as well. My emotions are complicated when it comes to punishments and my heart pounded with apprehension as I waited for the fist blow to fall.

Then, very suddenly, a fire exploded in my bottom. A girlish howl of pain escaped from my lips. My bottom burned from the blow. I panted as I came to grips with the level of pain Jenna could inflict and then suddenly another burst of scalding pain exploded across my poor bottom. I cried out and yanked against the leather straps that held me. The audience seemed to appreciate my struggles and their eyes lit up with excitement.

The third stroke of that whip across my ass was a little harder than the first two. Cries of anguish and moans came out of my mouth. The women were on the edge of their seats, enjoying the show. I felt both humiliated and strangely honored that there was a crowd of accomplished and highly regarded women were there witnessing my painful thrashing.

Nobody counted the blows as Jenna reddened my naked buttocks and the backs of my thighs, however, by the time she was finished it felt as if my backside was on fire. Jenna assured her guests that my bottom was all red after he finished inflicting the last stroke upon my tender flesh, and she even invited a small number of her guests to come up on the stage an examine my poor, abused backside up close.

I was panting and tears were running down my face as well-dressed ladies circled my helpless nudity and examined my whip marks. A tall, attractive woman in a custom-tailored black blazer gently stroked the curves of my buttocks and I gasped and trembled at her light touch.

"You did a good job," the well-dressed woman told Jenna, "Her skin is so raw, she flinches even when I barely brush my fingertips across her skin."

I whimpered as two other women fondled my buttocks as they examined my whip marks. My naked body tensed at their touch. They seemed to value my whimpers of pain. I was a beautiful, naked woman with a reddened bottom. They found my helplessness and suffering to be sweetly erotic.

She's been well whipped," a woman in a black designer gown declared, "does that mean that the show is over?"

"Oh, no," Jenna assured her guest, "There's still other fun things I can do to a naked girl. She has such beautiful breasts, and you'll notice I haven't done anything to hurt them at all."

It was a comment that seemed to catch the attention of every woman in the room. Immediately my breasts became the focus of everyone there and Jenna had to assure her guests that something utterly cruel would be done to my breasts before the show was over.

A woman in a burgundy-colored dress was invited to play with my nipples and get them as hard and erect as possible. She eagerly agreed to toy with my nipples and practically jumped out of her chair and rushed up to the stage to place her hands on my helpless, naked body.

When she was up on the stage with me, her facial features looked familiar. She had an oval face with a rounded chin, full lips, high cheekbone, and intelligent eyes. It took me a few seconds, but I recognized her. Her name was Margot Laurent. She was an actress who had been in several big budget movies when I was a teenager. I hadn't seen in her anything in years, but she still looked amazing. I would have asked if her she had retired from acting and moved on to directing or something, but I was a naked, helpless slave girl and I wasn't supposed to be socializing with Jenna's guests.

Margot placed her mouth on one of my defenseless breasts and proceeded to suck and lick her tongue around the nipple in a way that would please any woman. My nipples throbbed and become even harder as Margot lavished her attention on them and soon, I was moaning in sexual need as a crowd of women watched. My breathing increased rapidly as everything she did to my nipples got me excited. The throbbing in my nipples created a sympathetic reaction in my clit, which was soon throbbing just as intensely. My nipples became so hard that they ached, they became red, swollen, erect and wet from Margot's saliva.

When she finished, my nipples felt hypersensitive and painfully swollen. I panted and could hear my own heart pounding in my ears, yet somehow I managed to hear a few words of Jenna's announcement that it was time for my vulnerable breasts to be whipped.

It's a horrible thing for a girl's breasts to be whipped; and I could have stopped the Jenna by using my safe word; but pride demanded that I show Jenna and this entire group of women just how much pain I could take. I kept my mouth shut and braced myself for the agonizing pain that was to come.

The first blow snapped loudly across my right breast. I yelped at the sudden stinging sensation and some women in the audience cheered.

Jenna then stepped back, took careful aim, and used her whip to lash me squarely across both breasts. I gasped in pain and struggled pointlessly against the leather restraints that held me. I gritted my teeth and tried not to scream, but every time Jenna smacked my breasts with her whip it stung like liquid fire.

Jenna systemically whipped every inch of my poor breasts, scorching my swollen nipples, the sides of my breasts and even the undersides. I didn't use my safe word, however I did scream in pain as Jenna's whip decorated my beautiful breasts with colorful lines that stung like nettles.

I cried out in pain and the audience yelled out words of encouragement to Jenna, urging her to punish my breasts some more and insisting that I was a naughty slave girl.

Jenna willingly gave the audience what they wanted.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Jenna hit one breast and then the other, leaving stinging marks across my already-sensitive bare skin. I cried out in pain, but a slave-girl crying out in pain is just part of the entertainment. It was expected of me.

The women in the audience were enjoying the grand spectacle as my breasts were tortured. My pain was a source of entertainment for them and my anguished screams were like music to their ears. I would have found their sadistic tendencies disturbing if it weren't for the fact that I got sexually aroused from this sort of abuse.

Jenna gave me an adoring look and then kissed me passionately on the mouth. This move earned her some boisterous cheers from the audience. I had no idea that kissing a girl after you whipped her was a crowd pleaser, but the anecdotal evidence was there right in front of me.

"I couldn't help myself," Jenna explained to the crowd, "She looks so much more enticing and beautiful after she's whipped. Girls should be whipped frequently, don't you agree?"

The chamber resounded with female voices enthusiastically agreeing with Jenna's comment. Didn't they realize that they were all female? Didn't they realize that they were all agreeing that they should also be whipped often?

Jenna was a born performer. Her voice cut through all the background noise and no matter what she said, her audience ate it up. She had stage presence and worked the crowd like an expert. She probably could have advocated laws that mandated their daughters be sold as slaves and whipped naked in a public square and they would have all cheered.

"For the next part of the show I'll need a volunteer," Jenna called out, her voice full of enthusiasm, "Who here would like to assist me?"

None of the women in the audience knew what sort of assistance Jenna was needing, however at least ten women jumped out of their seats and enthusiastically declared their willingness to help. Was it Jenna's voice and potent stage presence? Or was it the implied promise that they'd have an opportunity to lay hands on the naked slave-girl?

Jenna chose a woman who was about twice my age to be her volunteer.

The woman was old enough to be my mother, yet was still undeniably attractive. She was a tall woman. She had a regal bearing and strode gracefully from her chair to the stage, her head held high and her manner dignified. When she was standing in front of me I could see that she had high cheekbones, bright green eyes and full lips. Her lipstick and makeup were impeccable, and her mahogany brown hair flowed down just past her shoulders in graceful waves. She wore a stylish black dress that was custom tailored to show off her slender waist and reveal enough of her shapely legs to be enticing without seeming slutty.

She placed one deft hand underneath my chin and gently forced me to raise my head and look her in the eyes. Her nose was pretty, and her eyes looked clever and inquisitive. She had a self-satisfied smile on her face, and she said, "Oh, she's much prettier up close, Jenna. So, what did you want me to do to her?"

Jenna explained that she wanted this elegant woman to play with my pussy until I was overcome with lust, but not to allow me sexual release. It was a cruel thing to do to a slave, especially when her legs were bound so indecently far apart.

A wicked look crossed the graceful woman's face and then one of her graceful hands grabbed my exposed sex. It was a very strong and very knowing hand, and her eyes met mine in mutual understanding of its power. I was bound helplessly with my wrists and ankles far apart as talented fingers caressed my sensitive pubic lips with erotic intent.

I panted and gasped and made sounds of feminine arousal, amusing the spectators who watched as I was sexually abused. I had to stand there, legs wide and inviting as fingers separated my swollen labia and delved into the wetness of my defenseless pussy. I gasped and my thighs trembled as she thrust a second finger deep inside of me.

I moaned, whimpered, and gasped as two fingers pumped slowly in and out of my sex. The women in the audience were enjoying the show so much that they leaned forward in their seats to get a better view as my vagina was fingered.

The dapper lady in black was an expert at rousing my libido. My sex throbbed with hungry spasms as she worked her fingers deep inside of me. Within minutes my clit was swollen, throbbing, and peeking out from its hood. I became so feverish with lust that I no longer had a functioning brain. All I had was a blind yearning, a desperate, throbbing need for sexual release.

"Oh, huhh, huhhh, uhhh" I moaned as that magical hand brought me to the brink of an earth-shattering orgasm and then was withdrawn. I gasped and looked shame-faced and pleading at the well-dressed woman who had rendered me helpless with sexual distress.

"Isn't she delicious, ladies?" Jenna asked as the women in the audience watched me suffer in sexual misery. There were words of polite agreement from Jenna's guests and then Jenna explained the next event in the entertainment for the evening.

"Normally if a girl wants to experience an orgasm she needs a talented tongue, probing fingers or some sort of phallus," Jenna explained, "but what about a whip? Could this beautiful slave girl be brought to an intense, screaming orgasm simply from being whipped inside her thighs?"

As soon as Jenna asked the question I attempted to close my legs, but the restraints buckled around my ankles made that simple task impossible.

The women in the audience listened intently as Jenna explained that my naked body would be used to conduct an experiment. My pussy was soaking wet and it had been expertly caressed and probed until I was on the edge of orgasmic ecstasy. Was it possible for a whip to take me over the edge?

The women in the audience were keen to see how Jenna's experiment played out. Even if I failed to achieve orgasm, they'd still enjoy watching as my most tender flesh was slashed by Jenna's whip. The way I was bound, Jenna could have stood in front of me or behind me and still hit her intended target, however, she positioned herself at my rear, thus giving her audience a better view of my tortured nudity as it was whipped.

The first searing blow hit directly across my pink slit. I howled in pain and the audience eagerly scrutinized me, watching with delight as my screams, body language and facial features depicted the pain I was experiencing. The more I suffered, the more the audience loved me.

I was bound with my feet well apart. I was completely helpless and could move only enough to provide an erotic acknowledgment of pain. The audience approved, finding my pointless struggles to be fetching and suggestive.

The second blow snapped across my swollen, pink labia, splatted wetly and I screamed again. The women in the audience seemed to be mesmerized with my pain. They were spellbound, they couldn't take their eyes off me.