Cheryls Passion Ch 04

April seemed to be determined to add more people to the list of those who could punish and humiliate me, or at least to add to the list of people who were welcome to

witness

my humiliations.

April had invited me over to her house for dinner and I drove there immediately after getting off work. When I arrived at her home, the door was answered by her mother.

"Hello, Cheryl," Mrs. Ladd said cheerfully, "Come on in."

Mrs. Ladd seemed to be warming up to me. When we had first met, she seemed somewhat aloof and cold towards me. This time she greeted me with smiles and a warm welcome. I didn't much wonder about the reasons for the change. I was just glad. I thought it was a positive development when you were on friendly terms with the mother of your girlfriend.

"April is upstairs," Mrs. Ladd explained as we walked deeper into her tastefully decorated home, "She's in the shower, so you've got at least thirty minutes before she comes back down."

"April takes long showers?" I asked.

Mrs. Ladd rolled her eyes and said, "The longest. A few times she's taken showers that were an hour long. We had to upgrade our hot water heater because of her. The old one wasn't enough to supply the demand for her showers and all the other hot water needs for the house."

"Where is Mister Ladd?" I asked. I had been to April's house many times over the course of six weeks, and I had never seen him. I had wondered about that many times, but previously failed to ask about it.

"Ah, him," Mrs. Ladd said, "We got divorced a long time ago. I caught him cheating on me with a girl that wasn't even old enough to drink. I'm not certain where he is these days. About ten years ago, he was shacking up with a stripper just outside of Vegas. But, I doubt he's still there."

"Oh," I said, realizing I had just walked into a conversational minefield, "He sounds like a real jerk."

"Oh, yes," she said in emphatic agreement, "That's an accurate assessment."

"But you still go by your married name?" I said, somewhat confused as to why she would keep the last name of a guy who cheated on her.

She gave me a bitter smile and replied, "Paul's name was the only good thing about him. Before I married him, my name was Christina Ceausescu. You may not realize this, but a lot of American women feel far more comfortable going to a gynecologist named

Doctor Ladd

than they do going to a gynecologist named

Doctor Ceausescu."

I allowed the name

"Doctor Ceausescu"

to roll around in my head for a few seconds. I wasn't absolutely certain, but I thought I remembered Romania once upon a time having a sadistic dictator named Ceausescu. I tried to imagine how a young woman would feel in the gynecologist's chair, naked from the waist down, her ankles in stirrups, her thighs spread wide apart, while some woman with the name of a Romanian dictator probed her vagina with her fingers and opened her sex wide with a stainless-steel speculum.

"I think I understand," I said, after mulling this idea over for a few seconds, "The name '

Doctor Ladd'

sounds much less threatening."

"It was a wise business decision," Mrs. Ladd said, nodding in agreement, "

Doctor Ceausescu

sounds like the name of an evil genius from an H.G. Wells novel."

I nodded in agreement, even though I had no idea who H.G. Wells was. I resolved to do a google search on H.G. Wells later, when I got home and nobody else was around.

"Do you need any help in getting dinner started?" I asked, looking over at her kitchen and seeing several raw ingredients on the counter. Dinner obviously wasn't ready, and my mother had always conditioned me to be a good guest and offer to assistance to my host whenever I visited somebody's home.

"I do," Mrs. Ladd said pleasantly, "But before we get started, you should really get out of your clothes first."

For a few seconds, I was too surprised to respond.

"Wait, what?"

I finally managed,

"You want me naked?"

Mrs. Ladd shrugged and said, "Actually it's April's idea. She wants you naked whenever you come over to the house. Even if she's not there to see it, she wants you to strip down to nothing within seconds of the front door closing behind you. I think she's trying to reinforce the idea that your status is inferior to hers."

I still had trouble wrapping my mind around the whole thing. Of course, April liked for me to be naked and submissive, however Mrs. Ladd had always been opposed to participating in her daughter's BDSM games. She seemed to think that it was beneath her dignity. Or perhaps it seemed too much like incest. Or maybe it was the age thing. I was eighteen and Mrs. Ladd was almost forty. She was old enough to be my mother. Watching me getting ordered around by her teenage daughter while I was stark-naked might make her feel like a pedophile or something.

"And you're agreeing to be April's accomplice in her...her..." I began, finding it difficult to finish that sentence while April's mother stared at me fixedly.

"Bondage and discipline sex games," Mrs. Ladd finished for me helpfully, "Yes, I am."

I shook my head in utter confusion. When I had first met April's mother, she had been very deliberately keeping her distance from me whenever I came over to punished and humiliated. She seemed to be very uncomfortable with her daughter having one of her friends over, stripping her naked, making her helpless and punishing her. I had assumed that this dynamic would be the way things always were between April's mother and I, however, now April's mother was telling me that she was going to be a willing participant in April's lesbian BDSM games.

"I didn't think you even

approved

of what April and I do together," I said, sounding lost and confused, "But now you're going to become

a part

of what we do?"

Mrs. Ladd crossed her arms over her chest and gave me a defensive look.

"It's not so much that I

disapproved

," she replied, "It just seemed really weird and inappropriate for me to be in the room when my daughter's teenage lover had been stripped naked and all of her naughty bits are on display."

"So, it's inappropriate for you to see me naked," I said, "But you just told me to take off all of my clothes."

Mrs. Ladd selected a fresh bottle of wine from her wine caddy and stabbed a corkscrew into the top of it. She proceeded to twist the corkscrew deep into the cork as she spoke.

"The other night, April and I had a long chat," she said, "After

very long and careful

negotiations, I agreed to participate in her world of lesbian femdom, and April agreed to do a favor for me. I still don't feel all that comfortable with the whole situation, but when you're an adult, sometimes you have to make compromises to get what you want."

I watched as Mrs. Ladd pulled the cork free from the bottle and then set the corkscrew down. Soon she had a wineglass in her hand and was pouring cabernet sauvignon into her glass.

"So, what did April agree to do for you in return?" I asked.

"Ah," she said as she raised the rim of the wineglass to her lips, "One of the details of the very careful negotiations with my daughter was that I'm not allowed to tell you what she's doing for me. She wants to be the one who tells you, and she doesn't want to tell you until the time is right."

My head filled with possibilities. Okay, some of the ideas in my head were too far-flung to be actual possibilities.

"She didn't agree to offer me up as a sacrifice to a pagan god in exchange for eternal youth or something like that, did she?"

Mrs. Ladd paused in the middle of drinking her wine and gave me an amused smirk.

"No, she

did not

agree to offer you up as a sacrifice to a pagan god," she replied derisively, and then she drained her wineglass in one swallow, set her glass down on the kitchen counter and said, "Aren't you supposed to be getting naked? I'm pretty sure I told you to take those clothes off."

The tone of her voice had changed from amicable and welcoming to serious and authoritarian. It was almost the same exact tone of voice that April used when she was dominating me. That voice cut through all my curiosity and confusion and stabbed deep into the heart of my libidinous need to be submissive.

That voice made my heartbeat speed up, and suddenly I was filled with a delicious fear of what the woman with the stern voice might do to me. I felt a wicked tingling in my loins, and; without even consciously deciding to do it; my hands flew to the buttons on the front of my V-neck shirt and began undoing the buttons.

Somehow undressing in front of Mrs. Ladd felt more humbling and mortifying than undressing in front of April. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the age difference. April and I were the same age. We were basically peers, however, April's mother was almost forty. I think the extra age gave Mrs. Ladd more authority or something.

When I was down to just my bra and panties, Mrs. Ladd looked down at my shoes, socks, blue jeans and chiffon shirt, all discarded and lying on the floor.

"Cheryl, you are no longer eight years old," Mrs. Ladd snapped at me reproachfully, "When you get undressed, I do not expect you to just throw your clothes on the floor like an irresponsible child."

I was taken by surprise at Mrs. Ladd's harsh admonishment. For a few seconds, I was unable to react, but eventually I was able to get out the words, "Sorry, Mrs. Ladd."

Then she crossed her arms in front of her, just underneath her breasts and said, "Pick them up off the floor, fold them neatly and set them down there."

Obediently, I picked up my clothes, folded them neatly and set them down on the faux leather ottoman. And when it all looked nice and neat, I undid the clasps on my bra, took that off and folded it as neatly as I could, as well.

Stripping off my panties was the most humiliating part. I'm not really sure why, but when I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and pulled them down my thighs, I felt utterly humbled and submissive.

"Panties go on the pile too," Mrs. Ladd said admonishingly, "You can't just stand there, holding them all night long."

I obediently set the panties down, and then Mrs. Ladd picked up all of my clothes off the ottoman and then took them downstairs to the basement, dropped all my clothing into a steel lock box and secured the lid with an iron padlock.

"According to April, this is a very important ritual," Mrs. Ladd said, "Locking up your clothes where you can't get to them helps to illustrate that nakedness is now your natural state. You'll be naked the entire time you're here, and you're helpless to change that fact."

I noticed Mrs. Ladd's voice changing as she talked. Sometimes she sounded stern and authoritarian. And sometimes (without warning) her voice would slip and she'd sound just like a welcoming host. She was still new to the role of being domineering and wicked. She was going to need more dedication and practice if she was ever going to be as good at this as her daughter.

"I see your pubic area is shaved entirely bare," Mrs. Ladd observed as she stared at my crotch, "Was that your idea?"

"It was April's idea," I said timidly, "She said she'd inspect my crotch often and if she ever found any pubic hair growing there, she'd punish me for it. Apparently slave-girls aren't allowed to have any pubic hair."

I felt my face grow hot as I said this, and Mrs. Ladd just continued to stare at my exposed pubic lips. Her gaze lingered on them for an uncomfortably long time, and I'm certain I must have been blushing before she finally stopped.

"it's a good idea," Mrs. Ladd finally replied and then she took me by the arm, led me upstairs and back to the kitchen, "I wish all of my patients were like you. You'd be amazed at how annoying pubic hair can be in my line of work."

I shrugged my shoulders and allowed myself to be led. I supposed she had a point. A really hairy bush could make things difficult for a gynecologist.

I had already offered to assist Mrs. Ladd in getting dinner ready, and now she took me up on my offer. I was no stranger to helping out in the kitchen, however, it was very awkward and embarrassing, though I had to admit also thrilling to stand in the kitchen, wash vegetables and chop them up while I was fully naked and exposed while a woman old enough to be my mother was standing next to me and looking at me frequently.

We made a very delicious-smelling chicken stir-fry and by the time April finally came downstairs the food was very nearly ready.

"Smells good," April said, and she walked over to me, grabbed me and kissed me full on the lips.

I could feel myself growing hot with embarrassment. I had almost forgotten that I was naked during the time I was helping Mrs. Ladd to prepare dinner. Chopping up vegetables kept my hands busy and kept my mind off of my exposed nipples, buttocks and pubic lips, but when April pressed her clothed body firmly up against my naked body, pressed her lips passionately against mine and probed my mouth with her tongue, I was acutely reminded of how naked I was.

After a long, intense kiss, April held me close. I could feel the cold metal of her belt buckle against the naked flesh of my lower abdomen and the hard, plastic buttons of her shirt as they brushed against my exposed nipples.

"It's good to see you, Cheryl," April said to me as she loosened her grip on my naked body, and then to her mother she said, "So did my slave-girl behave herself while I was upstairs?"

Mrs. Ladd's face went slack and for a few seconds I didn't think she was going to reply. I was thinking that perhaps she was finding her daughter's Mistress/Slave-girl games too kinky for her tastes.

But finally, she rallied and said, "She was very obedient. She did everything I told her to do."

"That's my girl," April said enthusiastically, and then she gave me a half-hug with her left arm.

April gave me a million-dollar smile that really made me feel loved and valued. Smiles like the one she gave me were rare. You only saw them on the faces of people who really treasured and appreciated you.

I know not everybody will understand it. There are millions of people who will never understand how April can both love me and treat me like this, but I adore being treated like a naked slave. She gives me what I need, and she knows it.

"Cheryl, set the table," April ordered me, "And we've got guests coming over, so set five places."

"Guests?"

I asked, "Shouldn't I put clothes on if they're going to be guests?"

April placed her hands on her hips and gave me a look like I had just asked her the most simpleminded question in the world.

"Now, how am I going to be able to show off my slave-girl's best features if you put on clothes?" April asked me.

I stood there with my hands clenching and unclenching, not sure how to answer her question. The idea of exposing my naked body to total strangers was sexually thrilling, but also frightening. I felt conflicted.

"Go, set the table, slave-girl," April ordered sternly, "And don't ask again about putting on clothes. I intend for you to be naked for my guests. I should probably punish you just for

asking

such a question."

I felt my face flush with several different types of heat as I set the table for five people. April and her mother spoke in hushed tones as I worked, and tried to make the place-settings like as orderly and pleasing as possible. I could hear my heart beating loudly in my ears, and my pubic lips began to feel hot and moist. April's talk about displaying my naked body to her guests and the possibility of corporal punishment had really set my libido on fire.

April and her mother examined the job I had done setting the table. They both agreed I had done a competent job. I breathed an audible sigh of relief at that, but then the doorbell rang and I instantly felt a swarm of butterflies in my stomach.

"Answer the door, slave-girl," April said to me, and she eyed me very intently, as if daring me to disobey.

I had no idea who was on the other side of that door. I was stark naked, exposed and vulnerable. I was going to feel humiliated no matter

who

April's guests were, however, there were some people whose gaze upon my naked body would be more mortifying than others.

As I slowly walked my bare feet across the carpet, I realized that the fear and trepidation of not knowing were another form of torture. The actual humiliation of baring my naked body would be bad, but until I opened the door, the was the totally separate torment of imagining the

worst possible people

ogling my naked body.

I opened the door and feared the worst. My heart beat louder and louder in my ears and I tensed and felt sweat break out all over my body. I felt faint and my eyes clouded over for a second or two. When I regained my vision, I was staring at an attractive girl, about my age in a loose-fitting, powder blue t-shirt and tight blue jeans. She was staring at me incredulously, like I had just grown wings.

"Cheryl?"

the girl said, her mouth hanging open, and once I heard her voice, I recognized her. Her name was Prudence Cuthbert. She and I had both gone to high school together.

"Prue," I said, barely believing this was happening. Standing utterly and indecently naked in front of a girl I knew from Fairwind High School, while she was fully clothed seemed so surreal. I had almost convinced myself that this was really a dream and surmised that I'd be waking up soon. But then Mrs. Ladd's voice cut sharply through the dreamlike weirdness of it all, and said,

"Prue, get your ass in here so she can shut the door!"

Mrs. Ladd's voice was heavy with authority and Prue scurried to obey. She leapt forward and I closed the door behind her. I hadn't seen Prue since the 11th grade, and hadn't really thought about her since then. I certainly hadn't ever anticipated that she would ever get to see me stark naked and taking orders from the Ladd family!

"So, Prue," I said, naked, nervous and compulsively rubbing my hands together as though trying to keep them warm, "How do you know the Ladd family?"

"Coach Jenneke introduced us," Prue replied, looking almost as nervous as I felt. I guess she wasn't any more comfortable with naked girls in inappropriate settings than I was.

"I had asked Coach Jenneke if she knew anyone else from your old high school who was sexually attracted to you," April added helpfully, "She had a list of names, but Prudence was the only one we were able to get in touch with."

"I think all the others are out of town," Prue said timidly, "On Summer Vacation, or out looking at colleges. Krystal Boyd and her parents are up in Vermont checking out Middlebury College."

Prue blushed a deep shade of reddish-pink and I think I understood why. All during high school she had seemed to be straight. She had apparently been putting on an act, and now April had just outed her as being gay. Not only was she gay, but she had apparently had a secret crush on me back in high school and now April had just revealed that deep, dark secret, as well.

Even though I was the one who was naked and the most intimate parts of my anatomy were being indecently exposed to everyone in the room, I was feeling sorrier for Prue than I was for myself. If she wanted to keep her sexual orientation a secret, it was cruel to just blurt it out the way April did.

Then April cut through all of my emotional angst and snapped sharply at both Prue and me.

"Hey! This is not supposed to be two old friends getting reunited and catching up! This is supposed to be a naked slave-girl being dominated by a free-woman. Can you two start behaving like you understand the way this works?"

Prue was on unfamiliar ground. Back in high school, she didn't have a mean bone in her body. She was friendly and cheerful with pretty much everyone. She would have a hard time acting like a cruel disciplinarian. And I wasn't sure I could submit to her. She was so sweet and so innocent. Submitting to her, would be like submitting to Snow White.