Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 27

"Aaaahhhh," I exclaimed wordlessly. I experienced sensory overload as the two beautiful women invaded my two most sensitive orifices. I squirmed and panted while Dawn kept me pinned facedown and Lyndsay pumped three fingers deep inside my wet sex, making my pussy throb uncontrollably.

"Uhh, uhh, uuhhhhhh, aaahhh, Aaaahhhh," I panted inarticulately as my holes were probed and fingered. A powerful orgasm built inside of me, and my feelings of helplessness made the orgasm building inside of me even more delicious. I could feel the impending orgasm building in intensity, and I spread my legs even wider, surrendering to the two alluring women who had taken control of my body.

When the orgasm finally erupted inside of me, it hit me like a tsunami. Pure, libidinous ecstasy surged through my helpless, naked body. I was helplessly carried along by one orgasmic wave after another and fingers continued to probe me deep until my writhing and screaming ceased.

Eventually we all passed out and lay naked in each other's arms.

Dawn spent the night over at my place. Dawn, Lyndsay and I rested up and then we engaged in more naked, amorous festivities. Dawn and Lyndsay were both insatiable and I brought them both to multiple orgasms. We all slept together in the same bed in a naked pile, and I blissfully savored the post-orgasmic afterglow and had sweet, erotic dreams of delicious naked females doing naughty things to me.

The next morning, Lyndsay announced that Dawn and I needed to go see my mother and tell her what we did. And Lyndsay insisted on coming along with us as she wanted to watch the spectacle when my mother punished us. The three of us showered together and Lyndsay helped Dawn and me do our makeup and hair and then she picked out something sexy for us to wear. Lyndsay felt that a girl should look her best for her punishments, so Lyndsay did everything she could to make my cousin and me look presentable.

I'm normally a blue jeans and sneakers sort of girl, but Lyndsay had me dress in a sexy black dress with a V-neckline that was low enough that my ample breasts were blatantly on display. Lyndsay had me pair that with a pushup bra that made my breasts even more shamelessly exposed. To accessorize my outfit, Lyndsay got out some black thigh high stockings and some high heel shoes that I could barely walk in.

"Lyndsay, I look like I'm going to the prom," I complained.

"You look exquisite," Lyndsay said before leaning in for a kiss and patting my bottom. "And there's no rule that says a girl can't get all dressed up for her punishments."

I felt kind of ridiculous tottering around on six-inch heels with my breasts lewdly thrust out, but Lyndsay seemed to think this was the way for me to get dressed before my mother punished me.

Dawn got fitted into a dress similar to mine. She ended up with her boobs shamelessly exploding out the top of her dress and walking in stiletto high heels that made her wobbly when she walked.

"What are the neighbors going to think when they see us?" Dawn asked. "I live in that neighborhood. People will talk."

"They'll be totally jealous and wish that you lived with them instead of your aunt," Lyndsay replied. "Now, let's go. I already texted Lillian and she's waiting for us to arrive so she can punish you."

* * *

By the time we arrived at my mother's house, Dawn and I had gotten a little better at walking in high heels. The only neighbors on my mother's street were joggers; however, they slowed down, stopped and then took a good look at us before jogging past. Dressed as we were, we grabbed people's attention.

My mother had an eighteen-year-old neighbor named Tricia. Unbeknownst to me, my mother called Tricia and invited her over as soon as she got the text from Lyndsay. Tricia knew that my mother sometimes punished me, and she had requested that my mom invite her over next time I was punished so she could watch.

"Hi, Gwen! Hello, Dawn!" Tricia said, greeting us cheerfully. "The two of you look great!"

The more people who were there to witness my humiliation when I was punished the more naked, helpless and humiliated I felt. And if the spectator was somebody I knew, then the feelings of exposure, humiliation and helplessness were far more intense. Tricia was a girl who I knew from my childhood. We grew up in the same neighborhood. Having her act as a witness to my punishment would be emotionally traumatizing.

"Mom! No!" I protested. "It's not fair to have Tricia here when I'm whipped! It's humiliating enough when it's strangers or clients watching when I get punished! Somebody from down the block is so much worse! Seriously, if you want to humiliate your daughter so badly, why don't you invite half the neighborhood to ogle my naked, shameful punishments?"

"That's quite enough, young lady," my mother calmly admonished me. "I don't appreciate your intransigence on the subject. And you'll soon regret your sarcasm. There are a number of women in this neighborhood who would likely enjoy watching me strip my young daughter naked and whip her bare backside. I'd have to make some discrete inquiries to be certain, but I think I could probably find enough women to fill the basement."

"You're joking?" I said timorously. I didn't like where this was going.

"It's not a joke," my mother replied. "In addition to Tricia, there's Harriet Drysdale who lives at the end of the block, there's Mrs. Warder's daughter, Amy, there's Diana McKenzie, the assistant manager down at the bank, oh, and there's Kristen and Clea, they just moved into the neighborhood about six weeks ago, but I got a strong Sapphic vibe from them the minute I met them."

"Oh, God," I exclaimed.

"So, remember young lady, the next time you feel like getting huffy about Tricia being invited to witness your punishments, I could make things much more embarrassing for you."

"I love it that you're embarrassed," Tricia said cheerfully. "You're so cute when you blush!"

Was I blushing? Probably. Being punished by my mom while her neighbor gazed excitedly at my naked body was a humiliation worth blushing over.

"Speaking of things that make young women blush," my mother interjected, "the two of you need to get naked. Off with your clothes!"

Tricia offered to unzip my dress. Once I was unzipped and I eased the spaghetti straps down my shoulders, the dress practically slid down on its own. I tossed the dress on the couch, got out of those ridiculous high heels and then rolled down my stockings.

It was embarrassing getting undressed in front of Tricia and my mother, but I was glad to get free from the pushup bra. It was so tight and uncomfortable the way it squeezed my breasts, it was something of a relief to release my breasts from their bondage.

My thong panties didn't cover much, but when I pulled those down my bald pubes were exposed to the attentive gazes of Tricia and my mother. My pubic lips were swollen and shamefully visible, broadcasting the humiliating fact that I was turned on by submitting to my mother's authority and humbling myself in front of her teenage neighbor. I probably blushed an even deeper shade of red as my mortification grew.

Then my mother found a way to increase my humiliation. She told Dawn and me that we needed to get down on our knees with our fingers laced behind the backs of our necks, confess our sins and ask for punishment.

"Do we have to?" Dawn whined. "You already know what we did! Why do we have to say it?"

"I've decided that this is an important part of the punishment ritual," my mother replied. "Do it. And kneel with your knees further apart. Your pubic lips should be exposed to my gaze."

Dawn petulantly confessed to the sin of sleeping with her cousin and then requested that my mother punish her. I was then required to do the exact same thing. It was shaming and made me feel like a naughty girl who desperately deserved to be punished. It also made me feel like my mother's authority had grown immensely and that I was utterly humbled and conquered by her.

When I was a child, my mother was never a strict disciplinarian. She never spanked me, and she was more nurturing than controlling. However, now that I'm an adult, she's making up for lost time and turning me into the most obedient, submissive and punished daughter in the neighborhood.

Is it perverse that I find this change in my mother's behavior to be thrilling and sexually arousing?

Naked and barefoot, I descended the staircase and entered the basement that my mother had converted into a punishment room. One of the walls had a multitude of whips, leather straps and riding crops hanging from metal clips. In the center of the room was a padded bondage bench. Flanking the bondage bench were two whipping frames, and there were trapeze bars that could descend from the ceiling. The trapeze bars were outfitted with leather straps that could be buckled around a naked girl's wrists, thus securing her for punishment.

Just looking at everything half illuminated in the shadowy atmosphere of my mother's punishment room made my heart pound and my pussy throb. I was both terrified and aroused as I looked at all the things in that eerie, underground chamber that could be used to make a girl helpless before inflicting agonizing pain on her.

"It's important for you people to respect their elders and submit to our authority," my mother said as she pushed some buttons and caused the trapeze bars to lower from the ceiling. "If adults don't provide a healthy structure and discipline for their children, that's an invitation for children to become reckless and irresponsible."

My mother's speech was a thinly veiled attempt to make this punishment seem like it was about conditioning Dawn and me to behave more responsibly. We both knew it was really about my need to feel helpless, humiliated, controlled and abused and my mother's need to punish attractive, naked females. The idea that my mom was an authority figure who was punishing me to make me a better person was a fantasy that we both pretended was real. It made our ritual of submission and domination much more potent and exciting somehow.

She buckled my wrists to the trapeze bar and Lyndsay did the same for Dawn. When the leather straps were secure and there was no hope of Dawn or me escaping from our bonds, my mother went back to the wall and pressed some buttons to cause the trapeze bars to rise. As the trapeze bars ascended, my wrists went up and soon my naked body was stretched taut, and my feet left the floor. Dawn suffered an identical fate, and I couldn't help but think how much sexier she looked while her arms were raised up and her lithe body was stretched. Her breasts were lifted higher and put blatantly on display. Her belly looked flatter, and her ribcage looked more prominent.

Dawn petulantly complained about how high the trapeze bar had been raised and how her whole body was stretched taut with her toes just barely touching the floor as she waited to be whipped. My mother just dismissed Dawn's complaints as inconsequential foolishness.

"I'm especially disappointed in you, Gwen," my mother said as she prepared to wield the whip against my naked skin. "You're twenty-two years old, Dawn is only eighteen. As the older sibling, it's your responsibility to set a good example and try to keep Dawn out of trouble, not to lead her into it."

I was about to point out the fact that Dawn and I weren't siblings. The word sibling meant brother or sister; Dawn was my cousin. But before I could inform my mother of her error, I felt my mother's wicked whip slash across the back of my right thigh. The whip stung like liquid fire across my innocent flesh, and I screamed inarticulately.

Traditionally a girl is whipped across her back, but my mother mainly whipped me across my buttocks and my legs. I recoiled and kicked and tried not to scream but remaining silent when you're whipped is a herculean task and soon, I was screaming with every stinging blow.

"You can be certain that Gwen used those impressive boobs to seduce Dawn into her bed," Tricia said as my mother paused and gave me a chance to catch my breath. "And with her arms raised up so high, they're brazenly sticking out and making such inviting targets. Maybe you should whip them too."

"Wait, wait, wait!" I exclaimed, desperately hoping to vote against Tricia's idea of whipping my breasts. I knew from experience that a woman's breasts are far more sensitive than her backside, but before I could make an articulate argument for keeping my defenseless breasts from being abused, the leather thong of my mother's whip slashed across my left breast, and I let out a piercing yowl that caused Dawn's eyes to widen in alarm.

I was panting and tears had welled up in my eyes as I struggled to cope with the pain, and then my mother declared that she needed to whip my other breast so that there'd be symmetry.

"Oh God," I screamed as red-hot fire scalded my right breast. My mother was so polite about the whole thing as she whipped me, but the pain was excruciating. It was a cruel thing to whip a girl's breasts, but I had placed myself at my mother's mercy and given her carte blanche to punish me in any way she saw fit.

The way I kept kicking left my pussy vulnerable, and I felt the sting of the whip as it slapped painfully against my naked thigh and my outer labia.

"Aaaaaaaaaaagghhh," I screamed and looked back across a naked shoulder to give a pleading glance to my mother, but she just gave me an enigmatic smile and said, "Since your sin involves getting your vagina licked by your cousin, it seems only fair your naughty pubes should be punished."

Whipping my defenseless sex was cruel, but my mother's logic fit with the narrative that we'd created. If my crimes were sexual in nature, there was a certain logic in inflicting pain on the most sexual part of my anatomy.

I had assumed that my mother was content to whip my bald pubes just the once, but a few seconds later her whip succeeded in striking between my kicking legs and directly across my pink, swollen slit.

"Gaaawwwwd noooooooo!" I writhed and twisted, but there was nothing I could do to get free or to evade the stinging blows of my mother's whip.

My mother alternated, whipping my taut buttocks, or my long legs and then without warning striking between my legs once again. And each time my innocent vulva was inflicted with stinging blows I thrashed and screamed for all I was worth.

One snapping blow stung my tender inner thigh, less than an inch from my swollen pubic lips, and I felt that I'd scored a small victory in that my mother had missed the delicate folds of my sex, but then her next devastating cut splatted directly against the soft, wet, tender folds of my exposed pubic lips and I thrashed my head from side to side and cried out as my innocent loins exploded into fire.

I screamed again and again until my lungs gave out and was then reduced to gulping sobs.

My mother allowed me to hang limp in my bondage and sob pathetically as she moved on to whip my cousin. Dawn was trembling before the first lash hit her naked skin and my heart went out to her. She was so beautiful, and just eighteen years old, but she'd agreed to this. Her submissive leanings had led her to seek out suffering and harsh punishments, so that was now her fate.

My mother seemed to take pleasure in whipping Dawn's firm round ass, and, at the first stroke, my cousin let out a yelp of dismay. The whip cut across both of her buttocks, and then a second slash went across the back of her left thigh. When I heard the leather impact again, I cringed in sympathy. Dawn and I became sisters in distress.

And while I felt sympathy for Dawn, I was ashamed to realize that I also felt a dark, erotic joy as I watched her suffer through her whipping. It was true that there was nothing I could do to stop it. My wrists were helplessly bound well above my head. I had no choice but to stand there on my toes and just watch, but it was a highly erotic scene that made my loins throb.

Dawn's whipping was just as severe as mine, and she screamed and jerked in her bonds as she was punished. I watched her squirm and dance and listened to her sob after the whipping was over. My mother attempted to be motherly to Dawn and kissed her on the forehead after she lowered her back down to the floor.

"I love you, Dawn. I really do, but this was for your own good," my mother assured my well-whipped cousin. Then my mother walked over and kissed me and gave me similar assurances of love and motherly concern.

My feet had been lowered to the floor, but my wrists were still secured to the bondage bar. If my hands had been free, I would have been tempted to give my mother a hug. My poor pussy, buttocks, thighs and breasts blazed with heat, my throat was raw from screaming and my muscles and joints ached from straining against my restraints, but I was filled with contentment. The feelings of fear, helplessness and vulnerability that my mother had imposed upon me with her harsh discipline and her demeanor of authority were the sorts of things that I craved, and my mother had been kind enough to provide them for me.