Sweet Gwendoline

Julie knelt at my feet and I spread my thighs apart for her. Julie looked up at me and her facial expression was one of both eagerness and nervousness. She had never engaged in lesbian sex before and now I was going to have to be her teacher.

"Direct your tongue into the gap between my labia," I instructed Julie, my voice thick with lust, "Work it in deep. You'll be amazed at how deep you can go. Start off with slow, probing licks. Don't go all fast and furious until I'm panting."

Julie was a very willing student. She eagerly wanted the approval of her teacher, and so she tried to do a good job. She clamped her mouth onto my shaven sex and her tongue went deep inside of me. My knees went wobbly and my legs shook almost from the instant Julie's tongue went to work.

Robin had created a raging inferno of sexual heat in my loins earlier in the day and while the fire had diminished, it had never gone completely out. Julie's tongue inside of me rapidly fanned the flames of my sexual heat and soon I was burning with sexual desire.

I had wanted to show Julie how to slowly and skillfully bring a woman to sexual arousal before focusing her attention on a woman's clit, however, Robin had mercilessly brought me to the edge of orgasm again and again today without giving me any relief. Thus, my body was alive with sexual need and a powerful orgasm began to build inside of me almost from the instant that Julie's tongue found its way inside of me.

I tried to hold the orgasm back by sheer force of will, but it was like trying to hold back a hurricane with an umbrella. My orgasm rolled up and broke out of me like a tsunami. I didn't want my neighbors to hear my voice as I screamed in sexual release, and I tried to choke back my screams of wanton ecstasy, but the orgasm was so intense that I couldn't help but scream out when it hit.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight and felt my thighs tremble and my knees buckle. I very nearly collapsed to the floor of the shower, but by some miracle managed to remain on my own two feet.

I panted and held on to the handle of the shower door for support. I was almost delirious with sensory overload. I just wanted to lie down and bask in the orgasmic afterglow, but I didn't think that that's what a good teacher should do.

It occurred to me that Lyndsay had done me a favor. Christina had forbidden me to masturbate, yet she and her aunt (and cruel girls like Robin) would play with my pussy and drive me into sexual distress and leave me burning with sexual desire. I might feel awkward having sex with my best friend, however, she could provide me with a safety valve to help release all the sexual tension that my wicked stepmother and wicked stepsisters created in my loins.

Still on her knees, Julie smiled and looked up expectantly.

"So, did I do well for a first time lesbian?" Julie asked.

I was still panting, but I smiled at Julie's question. "You did very well," I told her.

I was about to heap a great deal of enthusiastic praise on her oral skills, but suddenly I was interrupted by loud knocking on the door to our apartment.

"Well, who the hell is that?" I asked, offended that they would be disturbing Julie and I when we were both naked and basking in the powerful orgasmic afterglow.

"If you ignore them, maybe they'll go away," Julie suggested.

I quietly stood there in the shower and waited for the knocking to stop, but that didn't work. The longer I waited, the more vigorous and insistent the knocking became.

Julie refused to get up and answer the door, so I wrapped a towel around my torso, marched out of the bathroom, stalked over to the front door and flung it open. Whoever it was, I didn't want to talk to them. I mostly just wanted the knocking to stop.

After I threw the door open, the knockers were revealed to be Nathan and Natasha Sorokko. They lived in apartment 306, with their mother. I never got along very well with their mother, but Nathan and Natasha were always polite and amicable with me.

Natasha's eyes widened slightly when she saw I was dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. Nathan's eyes widened much more noticeably than his sister's. I took in a deep breath and wished I'd taken the time to get dressed before answering the door.

"This really isn't a good time," I said to Nathan and his sister, "What do you guys want?"

"We're sorry to disturb you," Natasha said apologetically, "Our mother sent us."

"She told us to come over and complain about the noise," Nathan added helpfully.

It slowly dawned upon me that the noise had to be a reference to Julie's boisterous, ear-splitting orgasm. A few seconds after that, it dawned upon me that my own orgasm was almost as loud as Julie's. And apartment 306 was two doors down from my apartment. If Mrs. Sorokko could hear our screams of sexual climax, what about my neighbors in apartments 305 and 303, who were even closer?

"Oh," I said, and then I attempted to make up a plausible lie on the spur of the moment.

"Yeah, I was in the shower and sometimes the pipes make really odd and unexpected noises when there's a problem with the water pressure."

Both Nathan and Natasha's eyebrows raised up at my explanation and I clutched the towel even tighter to my chest. The looks on their faces seemed dubious and skeptical.

"You want us to go back to our mother and tell her those sounds were made by water pipes?" Natasha asked, incredulously.

"I know what water pipes sound like," Nathan said, protesting, "I also know what a really strong orgasm sounds like. And what I heard didn't sound like water pipes."

I felt my face blush hotly at my teenage neighbor telling me he knew I just had a powerful orgasm. It wasn't the sort of information I wanted to share with my neighbors-especially the teenage boys in my apartment building.

Natasha grabbed her brother by the arm and pulled him away from me and stepped forward, using her own body as a buffer zone between me and her brother.

"We don't want to embarrass you," Nathan's sister said softly, "But my mother is on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum. And our grandmother will be visiting tomorrow. If my grandmother hears you and your..."

Natasha seemed to struggle for the appropriate word, finally settling on "paramour."

"If my grandmother hears you and your paramour making sounds of sexual relations during my grandmother's visit, she will be the one who comes knocking on your door next."

"You don't want that," Nathan warned, "Her temper is wicked and ugly. If you are having sexual relations tomorrow, do not do it here. Instead, make certain that your suitor takes you to his home."

There was a pause and then Natasha whispered softly into her brother's ear. Nathan actually blushed a deep shade of reddish-pink and then he amended his earlier statement, "Make certain that your suitor takes you to her home...or whoever's home. Just please not where my mother will be able to hear."

I felt my own blush deepen. Apparently, Nathan was not aware that I was a lesbian, but his sister was. Now they both were.

There was some dark humor in Nathan's advice for me to have sex at my lover's home instead of my own home. Julie and I lived in the same place, so his advice was effectively useless.

I laughed weakly at the awkward situation I was in and realized I had a long-term problem that needed solving. Sex with Julie was going to be far more complicated and problematic than I originally thought.

"Nathan," I said, trying to sound like a confident adult, "Tell your mother, you've delivered your message and I've promised to do something about the noise. There won't be another day like today."

By the time I closed the door, all three of us were blushing. It was an uncomfortable situation, but one that Julie and I needed to know about. We needed to come up with some sort of solution to neighbors like Mrs. Sorokko being able to hear our love-making.

"Who was it?" Julie asked, once I had make my way back to the bathroom.

"The Sorokko twins," I replied, "They could hear our boisterous orgasms all the way over in their apartment, and their mother sent them over to complain about the noise."

"Oh, crap," Julie said, her face going slightly pale.

"Oh, crap, indeed," I responded.

"Mrs. Sorokko is kind of scary," Julie observed, "Is she really, really mad at us?"

"Not yet," I said, "But if we go all wild with the passionate, orgasmic screaming again, I think she's going to come over here and punch me in the face."

We had a very unfortunate problem and it wasn't all caused by Mrs. Sorokko. The fact of the matter was that the building we lived in was built using cheap building materials and sound passed through the walls easily.

We couldn't afford to move anyplace nicer, and we weren't especially skilled at being quiet during sex. I considered the use of ball gags to muffle the sound of our orgasmic screams, but I didn't want to give Julie any hints of my involvement in the BDSM world.

Finally Julie suggested that we only have sex over at Lyndsay's home. It was far away from Mrs. Sorokko's easily offended ears, and Lyndsay was more than willing to have sex with both of us.

"So, your solution is to go to Lyndsay's home every time we want to have sex?" I asked.

"Well, for right now it's the only solution I've got," Julie conceded, "But give me time, I might come up with some other options as well."

Eventually both Julie and I dried off and we both ended up falling asleep in Julie's bed. I'd never slept in Julie's bed before. And I'd definitely never slept with Julie's warm, naked body entwined in mine, but I found I rather liked it. I had multiple dreams about Julie that night. Not all of them involved sex and nudity, but they were all a warm and affectionate in nature.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, I tried to crawl out of bed without waking up Julie, however, she had one arm around my waist and her left leg was draped over my left leg. Julie's eyes opened briefly as I extricated myself from her warm body and she muttered something about me sleeping in her bed. I'm not sure what she said exactly, and she seemed to fall back asleep within seconds of the words leaving her mouth.

After I got out of bed, I worked my long, blonde hair into a ponytail and then grabbed my phone. I found it and discovered I had gotten a text message from Christina. It read, "Do not dress in spandex this morning. Dress as if you were going to work at the bank. We're going someplace very special today."

I read the message three times, but the words remained the same. In the past Christina had always wanted me to wear skintight clothing that showed off the shape of my ass. I found it to be odd that she would want me dressing like a respectable bank employee. It was a very different kind of dress code.

I thought of texting Christina back and asking her why the change in dress code, but decided against it. I'd learn her motivations soon enough and I had a large wardrobe of clothing that was appropriate for the business world.

After I finished my normal grooming routine, I headed for my bedroom and picked out some clothing that looked respectable enough to wear to my old job at the bank.

I ended up wearing a stylish black tweed pencil skirt, that showed off and accentuated my tiny waist.

To that, I added a charcoal grey tweed blazer, a white cotton dress shirt that buttoned down the front, leather point-toe pumps with stiletto heels, stockings and my most respectable bra. The panties I chose were cut very high on the leg, leaving my lower buttocks somewhat exposed, but they were the most conservative-looking panties I owned. I didn't know what games Christina had in mind, but if I were dressing as if I was showing up for work at the bank, I'd definitely want to wear underwear.

I applied my makeup to my face and checked my look before I left the house. I looked professional and respectable enough for the bank, but I also looked sexy and stylish. It was a good combination and I was pretty sure Christina would approve.

I left Julie a note telling her that I'd be home around 3:30 in the afternoon. I paused for a second and then I added an addendum to the note, telling Julie that I really enjoyed last night and I'm glad that it happened.

I closed the apartment door quietly when I left, not wanting to awaken Julie. Our sex the night before had been really intense, and I surmised that she could really use some more sleep to make a full recovery.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Well, don't you look sharp?" Christina said when she saw me dressed in my tweed skirt suit.

"This is what you wanted, right?" I asked, looking down at my clothing, self-consciously. It was exactly the sort of thing I would wear to the bank. I thought I had followed Christina's instructions perfectly.

"You look like a very well-dressed, well-groomed submissive," Christina replied, "It's exactly the look I was going for, so relax."

Christina hastily bundled me into her car without tying my wrists up with rope. For Christina it seemed like unusual behavior, but she was the dominant in the relationship, so I didn't question her. I timidly placed my hands in my lap, looked out the window and we were off to someplace special. Christina didn't tell me where this someplace special was at first. She made me wait until we were miles and miles away from her home, before she was willing to tell me anything about the place.

"The place we're going doesn't really have any official name. Most of us just call it the Vineyard."

"The vineyard?"

I asked incredulously, "You're using up one of your Sundays with me to go to a place that grows grapes?"

Christina let out a sharp laugh and then said, "Not really. The Vineyard is private property north of Fairhaven and Augustus Beach. It used to be a vineyard back when Manuel Scolari was alive, however, he was very unsuccessful making any money at it and when he died back in 2008, his children decided that the 90 acres of land their father left them could be used in a much more profitable venture."

"So, his children took the land and turned it into...," I said, leading Christina to finish the sentence.

"Basically, they turned it into a very private BDSM club. They had a vision of 90 acres where naked slaves could be dominated, sexually abused and punished by masters and mistresses. They found investors with a similar vision, and when all the whipping posts, pillories, interrogation rooms etc. were finished being constructed, they began to hire suitable employees and selling memberships in their club."

Christina's words hit me hard. Suddenly I had visions of row after row of whipping posts, with attractive naked slaves bound helplessly to them, waiting for the cruel sting of a leather whip to mark their naked skin. The visions in my head were heavy stuff. My heart beat faster at the thought that I would soon be seeing such a place.

Would Christina be displaying me as her naked slave at the Vineyard? It seemed like a foregone conclusion. How could Christina take me to a bondage and discipline club and

not

display me as her naked slave to everyone there?

Being naked in front of so many people would be horrifying-yet I got feverishly hot at the thought. I could feel the inner lips of my sex swelling and growing warm. By the time we arrived at the entrance to the Vineyard, my panties were soaking wet with the juices of my desire.

There was a locked iron gate at the main entrance. Christina stopped the car and rolled down the window. She flashed an ID badge in front of a security camera and announced, "This is Christina Ward, member number 670."

There was a short pause and the gate unlocked. When the way was clear, Christina drove forward and the gate closed behind us.

"Be on your best behavior," Christina cautioned me as she drove us towards a large, imposing building. It was three stories tall and about as long as a city block. Did Manuel Scolari's children really need a building this size for B&D enthusiasts?

Christina parked in a parking lot that had about two-hundred spaces, however, there were only about a dozen cars parked there. Then Christina took my arm, led me out onto the sidewalk and then forward until we reached the large double doors that took us to the main lobby of the building.

The lobby looked like the lobby of a tastefully decorated law firm. It had beautiful hardwood floors and a polished counter that surrounded the receptionist desk. The counter looked as if it might be made of marble, and it was raised high in one spot, presumably to hide the receptionist's computer and printer.

There was a modern art painting hung up on the wall and perhaps a dozen comfortable leather chairs for club members to relax in.

I noticed that three of the chairs were occupied. Well-dressed, well-groomed women with an air of entitlement scrutinized Christina and I as we made our way across the lobby. They were all older women. Two of them looked to be in their early thirties, and the most disdainful-looking of the females looked as if she were in her late forties or early fifties. Lyndsay taught me enough about clothing that I could tell all three women were wearing designer clothing. I felt as if the eldest woman was appraising me, evaluating me-perhaps all three of them were.

"This is a bondage and discipline club?" I whispered to Christina as I followed her across the lobby, "It looks more like a law firm or a brokerage firm."

"Shush," Christina whispered back, "Joseph and Maria Scolari had a vision for what their club should look like. They wanted it to look respectable, not trashy."

Christina tightened her grip on my arm and pulled me forward to the girl at the receptionist desk. The girl smiled amicably at Christina and said, "May I help you?"

The girl was young, pretty, smiling, wearing a fashionable V-neck sweaterdress and seemed eager to help. I'm assuming that her attitude was manufactured and mandated by club policy. Nobody is naturally

that

cheerful and enthusiastic at work.

Christina nodded at the girl and replied, "I'm Christina Ward. This is Gwendoline Schön. She's a special case. Ruth Tyler put in a special request to have her membership rushed."

The perky girl rose from her chair and took a good look at me. I mean, she took a

really, really

good look at me. It was like I had suddenly become the most important person she had met all year.

"Oh,

you're

the one," she said, suddenly very intent on me.

"Miss Schön, I've heard a lot about you," she said excitedly "Miss Tyler was very insistent that we push your membership through in record time. We had to bend all kinds of rules and work some extra hours, but we've got you into the system. Of course, we'll need to take some photos today, so that you can get your own ID badge. Vivian can do that, but first you'll have to meet your handler."

The perky girl was a whirlwind of activity as she attempted to get me processed properly. For some reason, I was a high priority, and this girl made certain that I was processed as efficiently as possible. She got on the phone and alerted several of her co-workers that I was in the building and she produced several pages of paperwork for me to sign.

"Your handler will be Beverly Riemen," the perky girl said, "She's not in her office yet, and anyway it's important that you sign these before you meet with her."

At least a dozen pages of documents were thrust in front of me, followed a few seconds later by a pen. The documents looked very legalistic, and it would take a great deal of time to read and digest everything on there, but the perky girl looked at me expectantly, as if she wanted me to sign all of them immediately.

"It's all standard paperwork for submissives," the perky girl explained helpfully.