Sweet Gwendoline

I had worked for Riverside Entertainment for about six or seven months and my bosses were happy with me. I had accumulated an impressive list of clients and my reputation was stellar, therefore I was shocked when Lyndsay told me it was time for me to quit my job.

"Quit?" I protested, "Why?"

"A new and exciting employment opportunity has come up," Lyndsay explained, "Noel Whitehouse is starting a new business and I want you to be one of her first employees."

The name Noel Whitehouse prompted some synapses to fire in my brain. Noel was the general manager over at Erotische Dessous. She had a very proper British accent and had an air of seriousness and authority about her.

"Noel wants to hire me?" I asked. I knew that Noel had an extremely commanding presence and a voice that automatically inspired obedience. If she ever wanted to be a domme, she could easily be one of the best.

"She thinks that you would be ideal," Lyndsay answered, "She's basically planning her entire business plan around your attributes and job skills."

For several seconds I couldn't respond. I had only met Noel once or twice, however, I had apparently made a very positive impression on her. I had no idea she had such a high opinion of me.

"Close your mouth, darling," Lyndsay instructed me when I stood there for several seconds in stunned silence, "You'll catch flies like that."

I hadn't realized that my mouth was hanging open. I immediately closed it and attempted to ask Lyndsay questions about Noel's plans for me, however, Lyndsay stubbornly refused to tell me anything.

"I'd prefer that Noel be the one who gives you all the details," my girlfriend replied, "She's expecting us to be in her office tonight at 8:30. Just be patient and you can ask her all the questions you like."

* * *

Later that night, Lyndsay drove us to the Fremont Mall, and she wrapped her arm around my waist as we walked inside. Lyndsay had chosen my attire for this meeting. I was wearing a black bodycon dress that showed a lot of cleavage. I didn't know what sort of job opportunity Lyndsay and Noel had in mind, but I guessed that sex appeal would play a central role in my job description.

Claire was working the cash register when I entered the shop, she waved at me briefly and I waved back. Another employee escorted me to Noel's office, and I was ushered inside.

"Ah, Gwen, Lyndsay, welcome," Noel called out as we set foot in her office, "We were just talking about you."

Noel was sitting behind an impressive antique desk, wearing a Brooks Brothers custom-tailored, tweed blazer and favoring me with a magnanimous smile. It took a few seconds for my eyes to take in other details in her office, like the lady sitting in the leather chair near the front of her desk.

The other woman was wearing a navy-blue wool blazer and a skirt of identical color and fabric. She looked me up and down with an assessing look, and then she turned to Noel and said, "Noel, aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Yes, of course," Noel replied, "Lyndsay Brie, Gwendoline Schon, this is Jean Armour. Jean, these lovely, young ladies are Lyndsay and Gwen."

"I've heard quite a lot about the two of you," Jean said, her accent was American, but almost as proper and refined as Noel's, "Noel speaks very highly of both of you."

"Aww, that is so sweet," Lyndsay replied, "I didn't realize she liked me so much."

"You're a very lovely girl," Noel said, addressing Lyndsay, "as well as one of my best customers. Propriety demands that I speak well of you."

Attention then turned to me. Noel wanted to offer me a job with her new business, so it was inevitable that the bulk of the discussion would center around me and my duties as Noel's first employee.

"Please have a seat," Noel said as she gestured to Lyndsay and me, "and we can discuss your future employment with Emotional Support LLC."

"Emotional Support LLC?" I asked as I sat down. The name of Noel's corporation sounded like the sort of place that employed psychologists and other mental health professionals. I had no medical training and my current job was one where I took my clothes off and performed in front of a prurient audience.

"I know, dear," Noel responded, "the business name is pretentious in the extreme, however, I was advised to register that name for legal reasons."

"Tell the girl the logic behind your business plan," Jean advised, "she still looks confused."

"Quite," said Noel in agreement with her associate.

"You see, Gwen, my business plan is centered around the knowledge that there are certain wealthy women in Lago County who want an attractive, naked girl that they can spank, whip or otherwise abuse and objectify. Now, under normal circumstances, a woman who allowed herself to be tied up, spanked, groped, whipped or otherwise abused in exchange for money, would normally classified by our legal system as a prostitute. However, I have consulted with a lawyer, and she believes that I can give this business a veneer of respectability and legality."

"Wait," I said, "you want me to become some sort of slave-girl for hire?"

"Not, slave-girl," Noel corrected, "emotional support companion. And I have already had documents drawn up that claim the services of my employees are of significant importance to the emotional well-being of my clients."

I sat there speechless for several seconds. Honestly, the idea of being sexually abused for money was exciting. My heart pounded faster at the idea of doing such a thing for a living, but it sounded like something that would get both Noel and me in trouble with the law.

"This doesn't sound legal," I finally responded.

"It probably isn't," Noel conceded, "however, there is an important distinction between legally prohibited and legally actionable. I've already begun to build a client list, and on my list are some of the most distinguished, accomplished and powerful women in Lago county."

"I've seen the list," Lyndsay added, "There's a city councilwoman, a police lieutenant, two assistant district attorneys, a judge, a deputy mayor and several important people in the media."

"Two news anchors and several people in management positions at KMPN Campo Verde News," Noel said, "I can assure you that my client list is growing, and I promise you I'll be able to find other women in the media who are interested in paying for your services."

"You see, even if this isn't strictly legit, the people in power won't be making any trouble for you. Too many of them will be clients," Lyndsay explained.

"Also, police are conditioned to think in patriarchal terms, with prostitution being an enterprise where all the customers are male. As all of our clientele will be female, it will create an appearance of innocence."

"I don't foresee Noel having an abundance of legal difficulties," Jean proclaimed, "My main concern has to do with the extraordinary fees she plans on charging for her product."

"People will be willing to pay for quality," Noel asserted.

"People will pay exorbitant fees if the product is of high enough quality," Jean allowed, "however, I don't share your degree of confidence. Is what you're offering really worth the prices you intend to charge?"

"I see," Noel said dryly and then she turned to me and said, "Gwendoline, dear, stand up and take off your clothes. I wish for Jean to see the quality of the product I'll be selling."

I wasn't expecting to have to strip, and there must have been a look of shock on my face as Lyndsay said, "It's not a big deal. You've got a great body, just show it to her."

I stood up and took off my shoes first. I've never been a fan of high heels, and the ones Lyndsay had picked out for me were awkward and uncomfortable, so they were the obvious place to start.

Lyndsay stood and offered to unzip me. It was basically impossible to wear a bra with my dress on account of how lowcut it was. As a result, once I'd shed my dress, the only piece of clothing left on my body were my panties.

My panties were tiny, they were basically a low-rise G-string that covered my vulva, and nothing else. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and yanked my panties down. Once the skimpy garment was on the floor, Lyndsay picked it up and set it down on a leather chair, along with my dress.

Ms. Armour studied my naked body openly, and I felt a soft, wet pulse in my sex. The way she scrutinized me made me feel submissive and helpless. I was the sort of person who got a sexual thrill from being treated like a slave, and being stark naked while three fully-clothed women studied my naked body made me feel like a slave-girl about to be sold at auction.

And then Ms. Armour stood up and placed her hands near my breasts before saying, "May I?"

I nodded and told her to go ahead. Noel then spoke up and ordered me to stand with my legs far apart and my fingers intertwined behind the back of my neck.

"Elbows back, breasts thrust forward," Noel admonished, "That's better, dear."

Ms. Armour then proceeded to take possession of my breasts, fondling them gently at first, before she moved on to roughly squeezing and kneading them.

"These are natural," she commented when she was finished, "Many women need surgery to have boobs as perfect as these."

"Some women are just born lucky," Noel commented.

Ms. Armour then began to roll my nipples between her thumbs and index fingers. My nipples were already hard and erect before she began doing this, and, as she rolled my pink nubs, I could feel them start to throb, producing the most delicious tingling sensation throughout most of my body.

"Aaahhh," I moaned as the older woman stimulated my libido. Ms. Armour gave me an unreadable look, and after that I bit my lower lip and attempted to be silent.

The well-dressed woman then proceeded to squeeze my buttocks, feel my thighs, my calves and my abdomen. She also cupped my pubic lips with one hand and commented on how wet I was.

"When strong, authoritative women sexually objectify me and treat me like some sort of naked sex slave it does something to my libido," I explained.

"Gwen has spent most of her life masturbating to sexual fantasies of being abused and objectified by wicked stepsisters" Lyndsay added, "Sort of like the story of Cinderella, only with a lot more nudity, and no Prince Charming to rescue her."

"Oh," Ms. Armour replied, and she took two graceful steps back. Her eyes slid up and down my naked body and then she said, "Well, that sounds ideal."

"Gwen is perfectly suited to this line of work," Noel confirmed, "The dear girl is a natural-born submissive. She enjoys being stripped naked, used and tormented by strong women. She'll seek out this sort of abuse and sexual exploitation anyway, so she may as well get paid for it."

* * *

Ms. Armour agreed to invest in Noel Whitehouse's business venture and other investors fell into line. It took about two weeks to get the business operational, and it was early the following month that I was sent on a job to give "emotional support" to my first client.

Before I met with my first client, Lyndsay's mother set up a meeting for a friend of hers to implant a miniature GPS tracker underneath the skin near the base of my neck. Back in August I had been kidnapped by an overzealous fan, and it was only by sheer luck that the family maid saw who kidnapped me and recognized him, making it possible to guess where he had taken me. Mrs. Brie wasn't willing to trust my safety to luck a second time.

The GPS tracker was tiny; about the size of a grain of rice; but it could be used to track my whereabouts no matter where I went. Lyndsay, Dasha and Mrs. Brie all had apps on their phones to track my location, and they all tested my GPS tracker to make certain that it worked before I met with my first client.

I was given a date, time and address to meet my client, but the only name on the appointment schedule was Mistress Spank. Obviously, this was a pseudonym and not the client's real name.

Mistress Spank lived in Verdant Village. That's an area on the north side of town, where the vast majority of Fairhaven's nouveau riche live. The homes there are expensive but lacking in style or character. All the homes are rectangular boxes with brick exteriors, and the front yards are so small as to be nonexistent. There are no trees, hedges, bushes or flowers anywhere.

My car was in the shop, so I took an uber to my appointment. I got there about six minutes early, knocked on the front door and waited for Mistress Spank to answer.

I'm not sure who I was expecting to answer the door, but when the door opened, I was greeted by a woman in a maid's uniform, and not one of those sexy maid uniforms like they sell at costume shops. It was one of the uniforms that real maids wear who really clean houses for a living.

The woman was perhaps thirty years old and didn't look at all happy to see me. She gave me a look that was half politeness and half boredom and said, "Yes?"

I was certain that the woman in the maid's uniform wasn't Mistress Spank, but I knew I was at the correct address and therefore I wasn't willing to just give up and go home.

"My name is Gwen," I ventured, "I work for Emotional Support LLC. I believe I am expected."

The maid's eyes widened at the words, "Emotional Support LLC" at the same time as she told me to step into the foyer and wait while she fetched her employer.

"Elizabeth," the maid called out as she marched off deep into the house's interior, "Your emotional support person is here!"

"Already?" I heard a female voice respond from far away, "She's early!"

The female voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Of course, I'd lived in Fairhaven my entire life, and I knew a lot of people. Nonetheless matching voices to faces and names isn't always easy, especially after you've met literally thousands of people.

Then I heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. They moved at a much more eager pace than that of the maid. The footfalls approached so rapidly, that it sounded like somebody was sprinting at Olympic speed to get to me.

"Oh my God," the female voice exclaimed as the young lady approached, "You're Lady Godiva!"

Lady Godiva was my stripper name. And as my client drew closer, I realized why she knew me by that name. My client's name was Elizabeth Darcy, one of the sorority sisters from Sigma Iota Sigma. When I was a stripper, the Sigma Iota Sigma sorority hired me at least a dozen times to perform for them. Elizabeth seemed to be especially fond of my unique blend of dance moves and feminine nudity.

"Elizabeth," I called out.

Elizabeth rushed forward with girlish enthusiasm and enveloped me in a passionate hug. To an outsider it would seem as if Elizabeth and I were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years. In reality, Elizabeth was a client of mine, and the last time I had seen her was about four or five weeks earlier.

Elizabeth was nineteen or twenty years old. She was about 5'7", athletic and bouncy with energy, sort of like a gymnast, and she had a bright, enthusiastic smile. Elizabeth and I weren't exactly friends, but Elizabeth made no secret about her feelings for me, she adored me.

Elizabeth kissed me on the cheek and said, "I had no idea you were my emotional support companion. They just said they were sending a girl over. I'm so happy that it's you!"

"Yep, it's me," I said, my smile now matching her own.

"Maddy said that you introduced yourself as Gwen," Elizabeth added, "Is that your real name?"

"Oops," I exclaimed, "In my line of work, I think I'm supposed to keep my real name a secret."

"It's okay, I promise I won't tell your boss," Elizabeth assured me, "I wouldn't want to get you into trouble."

Noel was charging $400.00 an hour for my services, but Elizabeth had recently inherited a fortune when her uncle died. Her Uncle Paul owned his own brewery, and in a country where more than 70% of the adult population likes to get drunk, owning your own brewery is like having a license to print money.

"So, now that I have you as my emotional support companion," Elizabeth asked, "I can do a lot more with you than I could when you were just a stripper?"

"That's the idea," I said, "With a stripper you were allowed to look but not touch. With an emotional support companion, you can do lots of touching."

"I'm so glad," Elizabeth said, one arm still around my waist, "For the past year or so, I've had this recurring sexual fantasy in which I've got a naked girl over my lap, and I spank her until she's squirming and crying out in pain...not because she's done anything bad, but just because her ass is so perfect I can't keep my hands off it."

Elizabeth's eyes practically glowed with excitement when she talked about this fantasy. It was quite obvious where this was leading.

"Elizabeth," I said calmly, "would you like for me to get naked so you could put me over your lap and spank me?"

"Oh yes," she replied, smiling with girlish delight, "but not here. C'mon, I'll take you upstairs. We'll do it in my bedroom."

I followed Elizabeth upstairs to her room, and she locked the door behind us once we were both inside. Once Elizabeth felt secure that we would have some privacy, she flashed a wicked smile at me and said, "We're alone now. Strip!"

I'd taken my clothes off for Elizabeth before, but that was always with music playing and with Elizabeth surrounded by her sorority sisters. Somehow when it was just Elizabeth watching, things seemed much more intimate and personal.

I faced Elizabeth, and she hungrily watched my every move as I unzipped my top and pulled it off. Then I twisted my hands behind my back, located the clasps on my bra and undid them. Elizabeth's gaze grew more intense as I slid my bra-straps down my arms before finally dropping the garment to the floor.

Even though I wasn't a stripper anymore, however, I'd been conditioned to perform while shedding my clothes, and so, while Elizabeth watched, I grabbed my boobs and pushed them together. Then I lovingly fondled them before grabbing my nipples, pinching and squeezing them until they were visibly swollen and erect.

Elizabeth sighed, and then I stood in profile, arched my back and placed my hands behind my back as if tied there in tight bondage. My breasts were exceptionally firm, and the way I presented them really showed them off to their best advantage.

Next, I faced Elizabeth and unzipped my skirt. Two female eyes watched attentively as I slowly, seductively eased my skirt down my hips and allowed it to fall to the floor. Then I got Elizabeth involved with the show and had her help take off my high heels, asking her to undo the little buckle on the thin leather straps on my shoes.

When I was down to nothing but my tight, lycra panties, Elizabeth licked her lips and I did a 180 degree turn so that Elizabeth could view me from every angle before the panties came off. The panties didn't cover my ass, so when I did my turn, my well-toned glutes were shamelessly on display. Then, when I was facing my appreciative audience once again, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and pushed the flimsy garment down my hips.

"Oh, God," Elizabeth gasped as I tugged my panties slowly down my hips, then my thighs and finally, once they got past my knees, allowed the gossamer garment to drop to the floor.

"That was so awesome," Elizabeth exclaimed as her eyes drank in the beauty of my naked body, "I mean, it was lewd and shameless, but at the same time graceful and elegant! You take libidinousness and turn it into an artform!"

I felt my face blush hot as Elizabeth openly admired my firm breasts and my smooth vulva. Both my nipples and my pubic lips were swollen at this point, and the way my young, female client stared at the most intimate parts of my naked body gave me goosebumps and created a tingly sensation up and down my spine.