Sweet Gwendoline

When Lyndsay's mother got back from New York, Lyndsay spoke to her mother about me and Julie moving in with them.

Mrs. Brie had already met me, and thought that I was perfect for her daughter. She seemed to think I was a good influence on her or something. She seemed thrilled at the prospect of me moving in, and becoming a more significant part of Lyndsay's life. She definitely liked me a lot better than any of Lyndsay's previous girlfriends.

However, she had never met Julie and insisted on arranging a meeting where she could get a feel for Julie's character before she approved of Julie coming to live in her house.

I was Julie's character reference, so Julie and I met with Mrs. Brie together.

"Allison Brie," I said, with my hand at the small of Julie's back, as the three of us stood in Mrs. Brie's dining room, "This is Julie Hansen, my best friend. I've known her since high school, and she is one of the most honest, trustworthy, law-abiding and gentle people I know."

All three of us were smiling. My smile was nervous. Mrs. Brie's smile was a carefully-constructed mask, like a human resource director might wear on her face while interviewing a prospective employee. Julie was the only one there who had a genuine-looking smile on her face.

"Well, that's awfully high praise," Mrs. Brie said, "I hope Julie can live up to it."

"I'll do my best," Julie said, with her amicable smile on her face. Julie really was one of the most honest, trustworthy people I knew, I just hoped we could convince Mrs. Brie of that.

"So, Julie," Mrs. Brie began, "My daughter is very much in love with Gwen. I'm not surprised that Lyndsay wants Gwen to move in with us, but I'm not sure how you fit in. Are you going to be a fly in the ointment, and possibly screw up my daughter's relationship with Gwen?"

"What? Me?"

Julie asked, flabbergasted, "How could I possibly screw things up? I think that Gwen and Lyndsay make a very cute couple! Why would I want to screw things up for them?"

Mrs. Brie arched an eyebrow and regarded Julie carefully. She seemed to be considering her words carefully. I held my breath and braced myself. Mrs. Brie was very protective of her daughter, and could be somewhat paranoid. I considered it to be a good thing when parents are protective of their children, but Julie didn't deserve Mrs. Brie's paranoia. Julie was one of the most innocent people I knew.

"Apparently, while I was in New York, you and Gwendoline were involved in some sort of a lesbian threesome. Is that true, or was I misinformed?"

I hadn't told Mrs. Brie about my threesome with Lyndsay and Julie. And I was pretty certain Lyndsay wouldn't have told her mom about it either. I quickly concluded that Dasha must have been the one who told Mrs. Brie about our lesbian sleepover.

Julie blushed a deep shade of reddish-pink, and stammered for a few seconds, before she was able to form actual words.

"It wasn't my idea," Julie protested, "I was invited! It wasn't anything sinister or nefarious! It was just-"

Mrs. Brie cut Julie off in mid-sentence and said, "People often confuse sex with love. Young people are especially prone to fall into this trap. What if Gwen falls in love with you? Gwen already thinks that you're honest, trustworthy and gentle. It sounds like she's halfway in love with you already. What happens when you use your feminine charms to pull her emotions

the rest of the way

into loving you? What happens to my daughter's relationship with Gwen then?"

Julie's mouth opened and closed like she wanted to say something, but she was tongue-tied. She obviously wasn't expecting this line of questioning, and was totally unprepared for it.

"Julie is mostly straight," I protested, trying to defend my best friend, "Sex with females is something very new for her! She's not going to seduce me into loving her! She doesn't have the skills!"

Mrs. Brie gave me an admonishing look and said, "Gwen, shush. Let Julie speak for herself. I want to hear what

she

should say about this."

"Um, okay," Julie said hesitantly, "I can speak for myself, um, look, I like Gwen. I also like Lyndsay. They're both really great. They're extraordinary, but I've also got a boyfriend. We've got plans for the future. We're gonna get married."

Mrs. Brie gave Julie a dubious look and said, "You're in a serious relationship with a boy, but you had lesbian sex with my daughter?"

"It's sort of complicated," Julie said timidly, "Gabriel is a student at Addison C Niles University. And I'm a student at Fairhaven University. Since he and I are living so far apart, Gabriel suggested that we could each have sex with the local people until we graduate and get married."

Mrs. Brie got an amused smirk on her face, but then she quickly suppressed her grin and put up a poker face, which betrayed no emotion.

"So, when you told Gabriel that you were having sex with another woman, he was totally fine with that?" Mrs. Brie asked.

"Well," Julie said haltingly, "I haven't actually told him yet. He said I could choose whomever I wanted as my sex partner, just so long as he and I became monogamous after I graduated from college."

"And who is Gabriel having sex with?" Mrs. Brie asked.

"I'm not sure," Julie said, "Does it matter? I mean, whoever it is, Gabriel with break up with her before we get married. He promised."

I could see Mrs. Brie struggling to keep her poker face intact, and then she turned to me and asked, "Is she

really

this innocent?"

I cocked my head to one side and said, "Yeah, pretty much."

Then she turned back to Julie and said, "I'm not certain who Gabriel is having sex with, but he's probably already fallen in love with her. And if he hasn't, she's almost certainly working at wrapping him around her little finger. Women can be very manipulative at times, and men are usually far too dense to see that they're being played."

"No," Julie said, sounding very defensive, "Gabriel is very loyal! We've already made plans! He wouldn't throw away everything we have, for some fuck-buddy that he met up in Fremont!"

"Really?" Mrs. Brie asked, failing at hiding the skepticism in her voice.

"Really!" Julie said defiantly.

* * * * * * * * * *

Honestly, I didn't think that our talk with Mrs. Brie had gone very well. Mrs. Brie seemed to have a low opinion of Julie. She seemed to think that Julie was short-sighted and naïve. I was pretty sure that she was going to allow me to move in, but reject Julie's request. I was really worried about that.

Julie and I had been best friends for years. I didn't like the idea of leaving Julie in our crappy, old apartment while I got to live on a luxury estate. It would feel almost like I was rejecting Lyndsay as a friend. I wasn't sure what I should do. Should I refuse to move in with Lyndsay unless Julie was part of the deal too? Should I leave Julie behind in our crappy, old apartment and try to find some way to make it up to her?

In the end, it turned out I didn't have to make any difficult decisions. Mrs. Brie allowed both me and Julie to move in. Julie was so thrilled! Lyndsay was so thrilled! I was so thrilled! We were all so happy we all just about had simultaneous explosive brain hemorrhages!

Julie and I didn't own much, but we packed up our stuff and drove it all on over to Lyndsay's house. Dasha and Lyndsay helped us unpack. All of my stuff was taken into Lyndsay's room, and Lyndsay helped me to find places to store all of my stuff.

All of Julie's stuff was taken into a bedroom down the hall from Lyndsay's. It was on the same floor as Lyndsay's bedroom, but two doors down. If Julie felt disappointment that she didn't get to share a bed with me and Lyndsay, she didn't show it. She seemed thrilled with her new bedroom.

"It's

twice

the size of my old bedroom," Julie gushed,

"It's huge!"

Julie seemed happy. Lyndsay seemed happy, and I know I was happy. It seemed like the last page of one of those fairy tales, where the author confidently claims, "And they all lived happily ever after."

Of course, fairy tales are for children. Grown-up stories are more complicated and can never end that simply.

Julie was still a university student, and still had to go to classes, attend lectures and turn in homework assignments.

And of course, Christina kept taking me to the Vineyard every weekend to be abused, humiliated and punished, like a naked Cinderella being punished by wicked stepsisters and cruel stepmothers.

I was still a stripper for Riverside Entertainment. I had to travel all around town and strip for clients and entertain them with my naked body and erotic dancing.

After a photographer for Riverside took nude photos of me for their website, they began promoting me to their customers. They promoted me on their website, as well as in certain high-end publications that catered to the gay and lesbian community. It didn't take too terribly long before I began to get clients.

Much to my surprise, my first clients were from the Sigma Iota Sigma Sorority House over at Fairhaven University. Six of the students from that sorority had pooled their money together and hired me to dance for them at their sorority house. Somehow it had never occurred to me that you would be able to find so many lesbians at the same sorority that they could all go in together and order a female stripper.

And it wasn't just a one-time thing. I got called back to their sorority house about once a week. It was like all six of them had a crush on me, and they wanted me in their homes, so they could worship my naked ass and long legs over and over again. They became giddy with excitement every time they saw me. It was actually kind of adorable, the way they acted whenever I was around. They didn't tip well, but they apologized profusely for the poor tipping, and explained that most university students were in poor shape financially, and had to conserve most of their money for tuition, text books and living expenses. They could barely afford to pay my standard fee.

Another one of my early clients were dapper businesswomen from the Foundation for the Advancement of Women in Corporate America (FAWCA). They had an office on the fifth floor of an office building, in the wealthier section of Fairhaven. There were two women in that office that would and request me to come over and strip for them. Sometimes I would have to strip for both of them. Sometimes I would just have an audience of one. Of course, these women didn't emote or fawn over me like sorority girls. I think they were both lawyers. They were very serious and professional. They didn't giggle. They didn't laugh. They didn't even smile. No matter how hard I tried to impress them, they seemed aloof and unmoved by my performance.

The good news is that they tipped well. Maybe they really

did

enjoy my performance, but they just had a hard time expressing their emotions.

I had another client who was very serious about keeping her identity a secret. She's a famous Hollywood actress, and if I told you her name, you'd recognize it instantly. Before I could strip for her, I was met by her lawyer and made to sign a non-disclosure agreement. If I ever tell you her name, her lawyer will sue me into oblivion.

I didn't like her lawyer. He was arrogant, rude and judgmental, but the client herself was a very pleasant woman to deal with, and she tipped amazingly well.

Christina and her aunt were both interested in my new career, and promised to help find me wealthy lesbian clients that would be interested in having me strip for them. I thanked them for their helpful assistance, although I was somewhat worried what sort of women they would be talking to about me and my stripping career. Christina and her aunt were both sexual sadists. Were they going to find wealthy women who wanted to punish me after I was done stripping? I worry about things like this.

Speaking of Hollywood actresses, I met up with the redheaded, slave-girl with the familiar face and the familiar voice at the Vineyard again. Once again, I was locked in a cell with her, but this time I was finally able to remember where I'd seen her face before.

"You're Josephine Angel," I exclaimed, "I saw you in

Be afraid of the Dark

and

Dance of the Dead"!

Josephine shrugged and said, "Yep, that's me."

Now, I don't know if you've ever seen Josephine Angel's movies. She's not as famous as Angelina Jolie or Scarlett Johansson, but she's drop-dead gorgeous and the fight choreography and action scenes in her movies are excellent. In both of her movies, she plays a total badass named Claire Underwood. She's about the last person I would ever expect to find in a BDSM club, submissively allowing other people to strip her naked and make her helpless.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, "In your movies, you fight off entire armies of ghouls, you snap people's necks with your bare hands, you jump off the roofs of buildings, you decapitate vampires, and you even kill a demon with a rocket launcher! How can you be a naked submissive?"

Josephine gave me a look and said, "You do realize that those are just movies, right?"

Okay, when she put it that way, I felt kind of stupid for asking the question, but she and I were both locked in this cell, so we were going to be spending time together whether I sounded stupid or not, so I tried to salvage the situation.

"Um, okay, yeah," I replied, "But how can you play the role of such a dominant, ass-kicking alfa-female in your movies, and be somebody's naked slave-girl in real life?"

Josephine took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, causing her breasts to rise and fall in a way that drew in my attention a little more than I would like to admit, and then she replied, "It's called

acting."

Then she took another deep breath, and she added, "The first time I performed on stage, I was only eight-years old. The first time I performed in an actual movie, I was only nine-years old. By age ten, I could cry on command and shed real tears. I can role-play anything the director wants, and I can do it convincingly. Right now, I'm doing movies where I play a total badass. When I get cast in movies where the director wants me to play an intellectually-lazy, overprivileged rich trust-fund brat, or a sad, desperate drug-addict, I'll give the director what he; or she; wants. I know how to prepare for a role, and get into character. Whatever the director wants, I can do it. I just need enough time and preparation to get into character."

"Wow," I said.

Josephine slapped her hands on her bare thighs, and said, "I hope I didn't ruin the Claire Underwood movies for you."

"Are you kidding?" I asked, "Now that I know that you're a submissive in real life, I'm even

more

impressed. Playing the role of an alfa-female, when you're like me, I think that's a

huge

accomplishment. Now, I'm a

much

bigger fan of your movies!"

"Oh, thanks," Josephine said, with a comically surprised look on her face, "I'd give you my autograph, but well."

Her voice trailed off and held her hands out from her body, in a grand gesture to sort of call notice to the fact that she wore no clothes, and had no pockets to pull a pen out of.

I made a similar gesture, and said, "Maybe some other time."

"I'll be in the lobby, getting my clothes back, around noon," she said, "What about you?"

"I'll be getting my clothes back around three," I responded.

"I'll talk to my mistress," Josephine said, "I may be able to talk her into letting me loiter around the parking lot and wait for you to get out. If she agrees to that, I'll give you my autograph then."

I smile crept onto my face, and I gave her an enthusiastic hug. I felt we were bonding. I didn't bond with many people. Also, very few people ever offered to do me favors without asking me for anything in return. And, of course, Josephine was super-attractive. It may sound superficial of me, but I tended to develop feelings of fondness for people more easily if they're physically attractive.

Josephine hugged me back, and said, "My handler is Elke Schiffer. Who is yours?"

"Beverly Riemen," I replied, "Why?"

"If I talk to my handler, she may be able to convince your handler to have the two of us punished together. It's usually not that difficult to arrange."

I loosened my grip on Josephine's body and looked her in the eye, "Um, okay," I said, "Why?"

Josephine raised her shoulders up and then lowered them, in a sort of shrugging motion, and said, "When inmates like each other, they usually prefer to be punished together. In this place, it's usually how we build friendships."

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, but then I considered that I was here naked, locked in a cell, and my pussy was wet at the prospect of being dragged out of my cell and punished by Doctor Riemen. Certainly, nothing that Josephine said was any more absurd than me being sexually aroused at the prospect of being cruelly punished.

"I think I'd like that," I finally said, "Talk to your handler, and see if we can't be punished together."

It was odd. In all of my sexual fantasies, I was always the victim of some wicked female, a wicked step-sister, or wicked stepmother or whatever. There was never a co-equal victim that got punished alongside me, but almost immediately after Josephine suggested it, the thought of us being punished together really appealed to me.

I felt a sense of solidarity, like she had just become my sister or something. I had to agree, it was a quick and emotionally-powerful way for submissives to build friendships. Being punished by the same tormentors at the same time, would instantly create a sense of sameness and fellowship. I wasn't even entirely sure if this was sexual. Maybe it was just a feeling of kinship.

Of course, I couldn't deny that Josephine was an extraordinarily attractive woman, so maybe feelings of lust and sexual attraction did figure into the equation somehow. Being a naked slave, locked up in a cell with Josephine, waiting for us both to punished together, my emotions were too stirred up to do much in the way of rational introspection and scholarly thinking. I'd have to try and analyze my true feelings later.

The guards came and took my naked cellmate away first, and I was left alone in the cell for about ten or twenty minutes. Or maybe thirty. When you're locked in cell, with no clock, no wristwatch, and nothing to do, it's hard to accurately guess how much time has passed. I would have liked to use the time to finger myself to orgasm, but the Vineyard rules were very strict, and any inmate caught pleasuring herself (or himself) would be severely punished. I obediently followed the rules, and ignored the throbbing need in between my legs.

* * * * * * * * *

Eventually two grim-faced guards in sharp-looking uniforms showed up to let me out of the holding cell. I submissively allowed them to handcuff my wrists behind my back, and then they escorted me down the hallways to Elke Schiffer's office.

"Ah, there she is," Mistress Schiffer exclaimed when the guards manhandled me into her office. I was naked, handcuffed and helpless, while the guards were fully dressed in black uniforms, with shiny, black leather boots, tactical belts and black visor caps. Mistress Schiffer wore a charcoal grey tweed pencil skirt, black leather shoes with absurdly high heels and a white pinpoint Oxford dress shirt. Doctor Riemen was there, and was dressed in very similar attire, however she had added a tailored tweed blazer to her ensemble.

The stylishness of their clothes somehow managed to make me feel even more naked. They looked so classy and dapper in their smart uniforms and elegant tweed. I was stark naked, and couldn't even use my hands to cover nudity.