Geena's Life

"Geena, it is time for you to get dressed." He instructed.

He apparently took his seat behind me, observing his handiwork.

I stood up and reached down to my ankles to pull up my panties. I tried to stretch them out beyond my ass in order to avoid the pain of nylon scraping across my throbbing behind. I was not very successful and flinched as I rode them up and in place. In silence I walked over and got dressed.

Instinctively I turned around as if standing for inspection.

"Thank you" I whispered, though immediately I was repulsed by how far I had fallen.

He wiped the tears still on my cheek, then stood back and gazed back at me.

He simply stated, "You look very nice, Geena."

But I heard, "Beauty"...

I want you to know I am a happy and content person. I choose to live my life as I am living it and would not change anything. My desire here is to share my story.

My name is Geena. No, not Gina, that would be normal- my parent's weren't normal, so it had to be Geena. These stories, if you have read them up through now, are the story of my strange journey. The earlier stories and the many that follow will make very clear just how un-normal my life is.

Please don't misunderstand me. I truly love my parents. Even today, when I can look back on my life and find the clues as to why I am so out of the ordinary, I truly love them. After all they created me. Not simply the act of copulation and eventually birthing. That stuff doesn't take much imagination. No, I mean raising children- me, and my little brother for that matter. Now there is where imagination kicks in. I think it took most of my thirty-four years to realize just how unique my life has been.

My Dad's name is Brian. I was never exactly sure what he did for a living, I guess he matched people up who should be doing business together, something like that. I realize now that he did it very well. You know how it is. When you are young, you never really realize whether you are wealthy or poor. You are what you are, and it's just normal. I guess we weren't especially rich, but we were pretty well off. Anyway Dad traveled a lot- he still does.

He was always this guy who would pop in and out of my life, and Mom was the steady everyday influence. Not an especially good one, but always there. Still, Dad was the king of his castle, a strong disciplinarian, clearly in charge. He was a very big guy, always with a stern face. He was a gentle giant, who could transform into a cold despot when the need arose. We all understood that, even Mom, so it was easier to submit to Dad's will. I liked the gentle giant and worked hard to keep him that way.

Kathy, my Mom, is a beautiful lady, a typical southern belle. Prim and proper outside the home, she is a different person within. She is a conventional stay at home mom. In no other way is she traditional. She is submissive to my Dad. And, I would learn later, just as subject to his punishments as we were. But she lorded power over Todd and me more sadistically than Dad- at least early on. Mostly she loves, but in my early years she could change in a heartbeat if she thought she needed to. For her, punishment meant humiliation, more than pain.

Unlike my Mom, I am a professional Lady, with a career, life and friends of my own. But much akin to mom, I choose to fully submit to the man I love, my husband. The depth of my submission is largely unknown to those around me. To most I suppose we simply appear to be very traditional- not so unusual in the Deep South.

Dr. Steven Ross had slowly transformed me from stranger, to colleague, to protégé, and now his submissive. He was a very successful doctor, confident and self assured. I found that all very sexy. He was part of a larger group of business associates, but one I didn't know very well at first. I had had a lot of respect for him, but he made me feel uncomfortable. Steven was just a tad conservative in his ideas of the role of men and woman and it reminded me of Daddy. I tried to maintain a distance from him, but felt drawn to him at the same time. It seemed he could just stare into my sole and it left me both frightened and exhilarated at the same time. In private moments he would say the strangest things, as though responding to what was on my mind. I know that sounds incredible, but it is still very true.

That fateful business trip had sealed our relationship. He had built me up: Made me believe that we were colleagues on equal footing. Looking back, I realize that was a foolish illusion I had created for myself. He had slowly gained my trust. Over time I see now that I had gradually submitted more and more to his will. That weekend, he treated me like his special lady and I loved it. He commanded me to do his bidding and somehow I had enjoyed pleasing him so. Why I let him punish me like some naughty school girl, I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I can't define it exactly. He had controlled me, and I had willingly submitted to him. There was nothing I would deny him, if only he would ask.

And so, from that weekend on, our relationship slipped closer to what would become a true D/s relationship. Though we refrained from most physical displays of affection, public or otherwise, I felt there was a mutual love between us. He had the capacity of gentle passion or forceful intensity. The latter was the most common, but I found both intoxicating. I grew to trust him as well, and that was very important.

Dr. Ross had many social obligations and it was important to Steven that I conducted myself in such a 'proper' way. He spent a lot of time insuring I was up to the task. I didn't perceive this as controlling me as much as his teaching me. He was a very patient teacher and I loved to please him. He guided my career, my diet, my exercise regimen, my intellectual stimulation, virtually every aspect of my life. All these things he did for me in a very loving and caring way. I knew I was lucky that someone cared so much for me.

To our friends we appeared to be dating, and we both seemed to encourage that perception. Most of our friends were really his friends I suppose: Intellectually gifted and socially refined, but I felt comfortable with them anyway.

His closest friend was Peter Cooley, an attorney, whom Steven had known for several years. Peter was very handsome and like Steven, very self assured. At 6'4", very muscular, he had a very commanding presence. I have never really cared for facial hair, but with his closely trimmed beard and always impeccable dress, Peter pulled it off. He was a very friendly and charming man, who seemed to like me as well. I was very glad about this, because that seemed important to Steven.

Steven's wife, Tracey, was nice enough, but very quiet and hard to get to know. I felt intellectually at ease with her husband and I suspected she was uncomfortable with that. I envied her figure though. She was very attractive with probably less that 120 pounds on her 5'4" frame. Her long blond hair was always styled to perfection. I often wondered how much time she spent getting her hair done, her nails done, etc. She was a realtor who never seemed to actually work, so I guess I should say she had a realtor's license. Really, she was a stay at home housewife, and was very good at it. Her home was always cleaned to perfection and Steven was always bragging on her domestic acumen.

Still, we had all become good friends. I enjoyed our time with them. I was glad when Steven announced that we would be going away with them for a few days over Valentine's Day weekend. It was to be a special weekend and as had become usual, Steven was loath to give me many details. We would be flying to Dallas and going to a special club there: That is all I would know.

I had been to some lifestyle clubs with Steven before, so I was not too surprised when we arrived and had to go through some unusual security points before getting in to main party area. I was a little surprised that us girls were separated from the guys, but was getting myself ready for an adventure. Tracey led me away to a private room and I was glad for a moment alone with her.

"What is this all about?' I asked, once we were alone.

"Don't worry Geena. This is a very special night for you. I promise you will be very happy by the end of the night."

I hoped she was right, but the look on my face must have betrayed my emotions.

"Look Geena," Tracey offered. "You trust Dr. Ross, don't you?"

She always called Steven, 'Dr. Ross' which I found a little amusing. "Of course I do," I answered.

"Then do as you are told tonight," she instructed. "No matter what happens, just remember how much you trust him, how much you love him. I promise you Geena, you will be very happy when the night is over."

"OK, of course, so what happens now?" I asked.

"We change into these clothes," she answered, handing me a white robe. Hers was black and a bit sexier I thought, but I nodded in compliance. "We have to get ready quickly, they will come for us soon", she continued as she began to strip off her own clothes.

Though I had hoped we would wear something underneath the robes, I soon learned by her actions that this was not to be. I had never seen Tracey naked before, but she was as beautiful as I had imagined. As a nurse, I think I am not as self conscious as most American woman, but I wished I had lost a few more pounds. Comparing my body to hers, I felt somewhat embarrassed but my imperfections. I quickly shed my clothing, without stopping to hang them up, and threw on my robe. It offered little coverage, and I wondered how long I would have it on, but I appreciated what little comfort it gave me.

I would have liked a drink then but nothing was available or offered. Tracey came over to me, placed her hands on either side of my face and kissed me right on the lips. It was a long and warm kiss and I was surprisingly comforted by it "I love you honey, and I am so happy for you. I have to leave now, but I'll see you later," she said.

With that Tracey left the room. Alone now, I began to lose my confidence. 'What kind of a place is this', I thought. I looked at myself in the mirror. The white robe was pretty much see through and largely open in the front. My breasts, at 38C were no mystery to anyone who saw me now. Unlike Tracey, I had to fight hard to keep my weight down and sometimes feel like I'm not winning. Size 12 was not so bad, on by 5'7" frame, but if others where going to see me, I would like to be a little smaller. I was completely shaved and had been a little surprised when I noticed Tracey was shaved down there as well. Still, I was uncomfortable at the thought that others might see me so exposed.

I was beginning to regret being here, when the door opened and a familiar face popped in the room. "Ross, it's you!" What is going on her?" "What is this all about?" I asked.

"Calm down, Geena," he offered. "I planned a very special evening for you. You do trust me, don't you?"

"Yes, of course", I replied.

"Good, then come with me", he answered, walking out of the door ahead of me without bothering to see if I'd follow.

We walked down a long dark corridor and stopped for a moment at the door at the end of the hallway. Steven paused, then turned around and looked me in the eyes. I was comforted by that. He instructed me to follow behind him to our seats. I was to keep my head down and not look around, just follow behind and take a seat. He put on a black mask and turned back to the door, opened it and walked in.

Entering the room, head down, I strained to see what this was going to be. I was surprised by what I saw. It was a large room lit with dozens of candles. There were two rows of stadium seating on each side of the room all facing a large open area. In the center of the open area, there was what appeared to be an empty altar, with kneelers on each side. In the center of each of three sides of the room there was a very large ornate chair. We sat on the side of the room without one of those chairs. The chair centered on the left side of the room was the largest and most ornate, the one centered on the right a little smaller, and the one directly across from us, the smallest. A hierarchy of some sort I imagined. These three chairs were empty, but most of the rest of the seating was full, with maybe 40 people. I had not expected so many and wondered who all these people were.

The room was light enough for me to see most of the people, but with my head bowed, it was difficult to make them out clearly. Everyone was in black. Half of the crowd seemed to have black robes similar to the one Tracey had on. They were flimsy and almost see through, but in the darkness I wasn't sure they were also naked underneath. There 'partners' wore traditional black formal attire and they all wore masks. I could not be certain that they were all men, but clearly most of them were. I was the only one in the room not in black. The room remained silent for some time.

A clang of some sort broke the silence and a small procession entered the room. We all stood up. The procession of four men and four women, all dressed more or less like everyone else in the room- except me. All eight had a dark hood covering their face, so I could not see if they had masks on or not. If this was going to be a show, I was glad to be in the audience. I reasoned that I was in white because I was new. At least I hoped so.

The four groups paraded around the room and a pair dropped out of the procession as they passed by each of the three big chairs. The forth pair came to the altar and stood before it. The man at the largest chair, I assume, the 'leader' began to speak first. He welcomed everyone and invited us to sit. The eight in the procession remained standing. Each of the three men at the largest chairs then disrobed their 'partners' and motioned for them to sit down. They were completely naked, except for a black collar around there neck. They appeared to be mostly forty something woman and were not at all concerned about being naked.

The leader addressed Steven and suddenly, I felt a shiver of fear.

"Master Steven", he began, "Who is this stranger you have brought to our midsts?"

"Geena May Sorrell", Steven answered.

I was surprised he used my real name, but listened intently as to what was going on around me.

"And has she proved to be worthy Master Steven?" the leader continued.

"Yes, she has Master Paul", Steven replied.

Master Paul, then turned to the altar, and addressed the two. "And who will sponsor this new sub"? he asked.

"I will", a familiar voice said. With that, the two at the altar then faced each other. The woman was commanded to disrobe as well and I was shocked when she turned out to be my friend Tracey. The man must have been Peter, but he still had a mask on. Tracey, still naked, but hands now clasped behind her neck, recited a pledge of submission to her Dom.

I realized this was all a BDSM ritual of some sort. Peter was Tracey's Dom. All these people were into this BDSM, not as a game, this was real life. I was truly excited by this, taking in the beauty of the ritual before me. Forty or so sets of eyes were on my friend Tracey and I wondered how she felt at this moment. Surely I was to join this group with Steven as my Dom. I was excited and just a bit apprehensive.

The men at the three chairs all stood up and walked to the center of the room and stopped at their respective sides of the altar. They were followed by their naked partners, who knelt down behind them. 'These too, must be subs,' I reasoned.

There was some ceremony, mostly difficult to follow. What I did understand was that Tracey was going to submit to punishment as a way of sponsoring me. Peter was then stripped and for the first time, I saw him naked. I remember how good he looked and I felt a twinge of lust I have never felt around him before. I watched him as he turned and walked up to the largest seat and took the leader's position. 'I always liked a nice firm ass I thought,' immediately feeling guilty. He turned around and again faced the group, comfortable in his own nudity. He simply nodded to the group assembled at the altar.

I turned to watch the group as I saw Tracey being fitted with a horse bit gag. The straps from the gag were then attached to the wrist restraints now holding her hands firmly behind the back of her neck. I cringed as one of the men grabbed a leather riding crop and took his place behind my friend.

'My friend' I thought. She was going to endure this for me. I wished I realized how good a friend she was and felt a pang of regret. I reached beside me and grabbed Steven's hand. Still, I jumped at the first loud swat across Tracey's behind and firmly squeezed Steven's hand. Again and again Tracey endured the punishment in front of the assembled crowd. I envied her in some strange way, but was glad when the punishment subsided. Unfortunately that was only the first.

The second man took a flogger and gently caressed Tracey's now striped ass. By the way she cringed, I knew, just how sensitive it was. He continued the flogging with several quick swats then silently walked away. I could not see my friend's face, clearly, but the glistening of tears formed by the flickering candles was unmistakable.

The third Dom chose a black leather whip. Tracey rose on her toes as the first swing met its mark and nearly fell forward as a result. Several more and finally, mercifully, it was over. The gag and the cuffs were removed and Tracey was now visibly weeping. She was placed over the altar, her blazing bottom on display for the crowd. A humiliating position to be sure, but somehow I thought she must be comforted by the support the altar provided. The three Doms returned to there places and Peter, still naked, returned to the altar.

Peter took what was probably some kind of salve and began to rub Tracey's behind to sooth the wounds of her ordeal. She flinched slightly as Peter's hand, probably a bit cold, touched the stinging ass on display. It was a bit erotic, but there was no emotion from the assembled group. Peter then lifted her off the altar, attached a leash of some sort to her collar and paraded her around the room one time. He stopped briefly at each of the leader's chairs where Tracey would kneel down and put her face between her knees for inspection. One by one they followed this ritual until they again returned to the altar. Then Tracey took a kneeling position on one side of the altar and Peter walked around and took a kneeling position across from Tracey.

Steven startled me by standing up and taking my hand in a gesture to follow him. We likewise paraded around the room without stopping at each of the three leaders. We then made our way to the altar and I got my first up close look at the damage rendered to my friend on my behalf. I tried to keep my strength as Steven led me to one side and motioned for me to kneel down. Steven took the last position across from me.

I knelt there; head bowed and hands at my side, and waited.

Suddenly, I felt the tug of unfamiliar hands pull away my robe leaving me naked on my knees. Instinctively I placed my hands across my chest for a moment before realizing the better and let my hands fall to my side. I was grateful for the small protection provided by the altar, but felt a rush of embarrassment none the less. I had somehow come to expect something like this, but until it actually happened, I had no idea how humiliating it would be to be stripped naked in front of so many strangers.

Peter was on the side of the altar to my left. When I realized he was looking at me I turned my head back down facing the altar. There was a room full of people staring at my nudity, but with Peter so close and such a good friend, I felt mortified. Tracey, still naked herself, was to my right. I couldn't see her face clearly but I could see her breasts heaving up and down as she whimpered. I was glad to have her by my side, though I felt so guilty.