Gwen: Bound for a New Life

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Gwen picked her cell phone out of her handbag with the irritation she reserved for anything which interrupted her weekly shopping expedition, but her mood brightened when her friend of many years, Julie, came on the line, and suggested a coffee. She agreed readily.

Half an hour later they were sitting outside the store enjoying a latte and a biscuit, chatting idly. Then Julie quite suddenly broached a subject Gwen had not been expecting at all, but one which had been uppermost in her thoughts for a long time.

‘How’s your sex-life, girl?’ she asked, abruptly.

‘Er…well,’ started Gwen, reddening.

‘We friends, or what?’

‘Of course,’ she replied, stirring her coffee vigorously. ‘As you ask, it’s gone a bit…humdrum. In need of…well, something…’ She tailed off lamely.

Julie was looking at her with a peculiar intensity. ‘I have a bunch of friends who might be able to help. I understand Roger is going away for a time?’

It was true. Gwen’s husband was due to go off to the Middle East on business in the next few days, and would be away for several months. Even without his forthcoming absence, she was feeling empty – as if something was missing from her life. Then, only last week, she had been sorting through cupboards, preparing his things for the journey, when she came across some videos – old ones, nothing very special, she thought at first, except that one took her eye – it was ‘The Story of O.’

She watched it, fascinated. Not pornography, by any means, but she was soon so wet she had to go and change her panties, as ‘O’ was chained, whipped and brutally sodomised, but gave such a show of haughty disdain, pleasure even.

But Julie was waiting for a reply.

‘What sort of friends?’

‘I have seen it in you – friends who can give you what I think you may crave, Gwen,’ she said, ‘I think you know what I mean.’

‘Are you…? I mean…’ started Gwen, but Julie cut her off. ‘Let me put someone in touch with you, when Roger has gone, eh?’

No more was said, and Roger duly departed the following week. Gwen was sat at her reception desk the following day, when a tall stranger walked in, wearing a casual leather jacket and chinos. He had a square chin and piercing grey eyes.

He walked directly up and shook her hand. ‘I am John. You have been expecting me, I think.’

She didn’t know what to say at the direct approach, but knew immediately that this was the man Julie had sent.

He saw that she was looking for a response, and said, quite formally, ‘If you would care to dine with me, I will send a package to your home tomorrow, and expect you tomorrow evening. Good day to you.’ Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out. Gwen was speechless.

Next day was Saturday, and Gwen could hardly wait to see what the ‘package’ was all about. If it came! Sure enough, about four in the afternoon, a messenger appeared, with a long box, fastened with a red ribbon, and a small shoe-box.

She opened the shoe-box first and an envelope fell out. It contained a card, written in beautiful script. It read: Remove any vestige of hair on your body, and wear what is in these boxes, nothing else. I will have you collected at eight.

Beneath the envelope were a pair of white sandals, with very high metallic needle heels.

She put them down and set the long box down on the sofa, impatiently tearing open the ribbon. When she lifted the lid, and the tissue below it, she saw it contained a white silk garment. Nervously, she took it out, and held it up, so that it fell out in front of her. It was a long soft silk sheath-dress, long-sleeved and high-necked, which looked as if it would cover her decorously, were it not for the facts that it appeared to be a very tight fit, and that it consisted of very flimsy material. She found herself wondering how on earth she could wear something like this ‘and nothing else.’

After a chat with Julie on the telephone, however, she felt renewed confidence and hummed cheerfully as she went about her toilet, until she came to the point of shaving, something she had never done before. She had to concentrate hard, so as not to nick her pussy-lips, but found herself getting aroused as she made sure that every last remains of hair was gone from her whole pubic area. When she had finished, and oiled herself thoroughly, she decided she loved the smooth feel of it, and wondered why she hadn’t done it before. She took care with her make-up, applying just enough, then brushed her long dark hair to a silken sheen. Then she put on the shoes, and tried walking in them, up and down her lounge – they were a good deal higher than she was used to, but she felt sexy in them – good.

It was time to put on the dress. She put it over her head and wriggled her arms into the tight sleeves, which ended in loops for her middle fingers. Then she wriggled the fine silk down over her breasts, and pulled it down over her hips, letting it fall with a gentle swish down to the floor. She smoothed it down around her body and felt the delightful sensation görükle escort of the cool silk against her shaven pubes. She walked to the full-length mirror in her passageway, and admired her image. Her nipples could not have shown more clearly had she been naked, and, when she turned and looked over her shoulder, the outline of her rounded buttocks was all-too obvious. The skirt was pencil-slim, so that she was only able to take tiny steps when she walked, and the outline of her long legs showed clearly that she wore no panties.

The doorbell rang, and a uniformed man asked her to follow him, then helped her into the back seat of a large black Mercedes.

Ten minutes later, she walked self-consciously into a restaurant, in the most exclusive part of town. The lighting was not very bright, but she had the impression that other diners stopped what they were doing to watch her as she was shown to John’s table.

He rose to greet her, and complimented her on her appearance, asking her if she had followed all his instructions.

‘Of course,’ she said.

‘Good,’ he replied, ‘But now I have something else for you. I want you to put this in your cunt.’ With that he handed her an egg-shaped device, with a string attached to one end.

She didn’t know whether she was most shocked by the suggestion, or by his sudden use of the forbidden word, which she had never heard her husband use, but something made her take the egg from his hand.

‘Now,’ he said.

She looked around her in panic.

‘Nobody is looking. Do it.’ It was an order, and she knew she should obey.

It was no easy matter to pull up her tight skirt under the table cloth, as surreptitiously as possible, and a her eyes widened as she pushed the big egg into her vaginal orifice. An involuntary, ‘Oooh’ escaped her lips.

‘Good,’ he said, ‘Pull your skirt back down.’

Later, after they had ordered, and were waiting for the first course, he reached into his pocket, and she heard a little click. Immediately, a sensation of rippling pleasure ran right through her inner core, and it was all she could do not to cry out. Thankfully, he turned the remote off again after a few seconds, but she then remonstrated with him for not telling her that the egg was remote-controlled. He smiled, ‘You will learn many things, Gwen, if, after tonight, you consent to be trained.’

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, but she was ever conscious of the egg in her vagina, and the waiter leered at her nipples every time he served their table, once even brushing his arm against her breast as he collected a plate. John appeared to enjoy the attention, saying, ‘He’d love to fuck you, just look at the way he looked at you.’

After the meal, John helped her from the table in a very gentlemanly fashion, and the chauffeur was awaiting them in the foyer. When they got into the back of the car the driver started and drove off slowly. John turned to Gwen, and took her in his arms.

‘You did well, Gwen,’ he said, then kissed her hard. She responded fiercely, probing with her tongue, while he pulled hard at one of her nipples through the thin silk of her dress. It hardened to his touch, and she felt his cock harden against her leg at the same time. She was on fire, and when he pulled down his zipper to release his eager cock, she leaned down to take his length deep into her mouth, helping him pump with all his might until he came with great shuddering spurts, deep into her throat.

He had not forgotten her either, and turned on the remote one last time as he was in the throes of orgasm, so that Gwen could abandon herself to the joys of the ‘egg.’ But it was no substitute for the real thing, and she knew she was going to have to wait for that now.

Later, she took the device out of her vagina, and gave it back to him.

The driver had neither spoken nor looked back throughout the whole episode. Now he stopped outside Gwen’s apartment block.

John got out, walked around and opened her door. Helping her out of the car, he said, ‘Gwen, you have given me great pleasure this evening. If you do not wish to see me again, I shall understand, however. But if you now wish to be trained, and move to a new level with me, now is the time to say so.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she heard herself saying.

‘Then I will be in touch tomorrow. Go now, and sleep well.’

He made no attempt to ask himself in for a coffee, or any other ploy to spend the night with her, she noted. This was a man who did not resort to ploys. She went, and slept.

Next morning, Sunday, Gwen pottered about the house, in tee-shirt and jeans, still bemused by what had happened the night before. How could she have worn such a dress? And given head to a complete stranger? And inserted the ‘egg?’

At around midday, a messenger arrived, with a big suitcase and an envelope. On the envelope was written the message: Read before opening suitcase.

She opened the envelope, and there was a longish letter inside. She read it.

Dearest Gwen,

As görükle escort bayan you have consented to be trained, here are your instructions, and rules:-

1.Your body hair is to be clean-shaven at all times.

2.You are never to wear panties at any time.

3.If you wear a bra, it is to leave your nipples free and visible.

4.If you wear a garter belt it is to leave your buttocks clearly naked.

5.You will not wear trousers, or skirts too tight to be raised, unless I so decree.

6.When I wish to punish you, you will choose the instrument of punishment from a tray I keep in my home.

7.If I decide to have you marked in any way, you will assent accordingly.

8.If I decide that your anal orifice requires expansion, you will assist in making the necessary adjustments.

9.If, for the pleasure of myself and my colleagues, I wish to loan you to another for any period, you will readily consent.

10.I know it is fashionable in some circles for titles such as ‘Master,’ ‘Sir,’ and ‘Slut’ to be used. I prefer that we use our names, but our respective positions are clearly defined, and must remain so.

I trust those simple rules are clear to you. If at any time you wish to relinquish your position, you are free to do so, but I would hope and trust that our arrangement remains confidential.

You will have realised that I have aspired to a position of some influence and wealth. I have accordingly arranged for your absence from your place of work for the next week, so that you may concentrate on the first phase of your training.

Now prepare yourself. If you open the suitcase, you will find on top a package containing all you need to wear. The remainder of the things will be needed during the week, together with other things we may purchase later.

Trimble will call for you at one.

She looked at her watch. It was already twelve-fifteen. She opened the suitcase, and took out a big plastic bag, opening it on the sofa. Again it contained clothes, but this time much more ‘normal’ looking ones – on the face of it. She took the package through to the bedroom, and stripped off her jeans and tee-shirt, looking at her slim body in the mirror, and wondering at the ‘new-look Gwen,’ divested of pubic hair – she looked so wanton, yet strangely young and innocent, she thought.

Taking the clothes from the package, she found and put on a dark blue satin garter belt and matching blue-toned lace-top nylons. Also matching was a half-bra, which pushed up her smallish breasts so that her long nipples pointed slightly upwards. Then she put on the completely transparent blue organdie blouse, and stepped into a simple pleated royal blue cotton miniskirt, which came to mid-thigh, just covering her stocking-tops. She completed the outfit with a pair of outrageously high platform-soled, needle-heeled, patent leather shoes, which she really was going to have to get used to, but then found, nestling in the bottom of the package, a small bag, which contained something hard and cylindrical. When she took it out, she knew at once what it was – a butt-plug. She had never been taken in the arse in her life, and didn’t think there was any way she could force this thing, which looked so huge, into the tiny, puckered opening, even if she used the tube of lubricant that came with it. She also didn’t think that, if once she got it up there, it could be persuaded to stay in, while she walked. She decided to leave it out for the time being.

Dead on one o’clock, the door bell sounded, and the chauffeur, Trimble, was waiting for her. She let him open the car door for her, thinking how she could get used to being pampered by servants!

Soon the car drew up outside a big, secluded mansion, and she was shown up a wide staircase and into a tiled hallway, where a very pretty young girl – she can have been no more than eighteen – dressed in a black silk minidress, took her by the elbow, and directed her to a palatial dining room, where a table was set for two. John was awaiting her, standing beside the table, with a slight smile on his face. He was wearing a red silk dressing gown. He motioned her to a place at the table, and they ate a light lunch, talking about nothing in particular.

When they had finished, his mood suddenly seemed to change.

‘Have you done as I requested?’ he demanded.

She remembered the butt-plug. ‘Well, more or less,’ she said.

‘More – or less?’ He wasn’t smiling now.

She wanted to tell him about the plug, but didn’t want to incur his anger.

‘Stand up,’ he said, more gently, and she did as she was told. He ran his hand immediately between her legs, and thrust two fingers straight into her cunt, using them to pull her towards him, while his eyes never left hers. Then he let his hand stray up towards her anus, and probe into her rectum.

‘I see,’ he said, sternly, ‘The first day, and already you disobey me, Gwen.’ He released her, and stood beside her, then took her hand.

‘Come, you must be punished.’

Gwen bursa escort was terrified as he led her through a door and out into a passageway, then into a room that looked like a library.

‘Wait ,’ he commanded, and released her hand while he reached a tray down from a shelf behind the door. He placed the tray on a coffee table. It contained an assortment of whips, canes and floggers.

‘You will normally have the choice as to your instrument of pain and pleasure. Today is your first time, so I shall choose for you.’ After a moment’s deliberation, he picked up a riding crop.

He led her to a small sofa, and made her bend over the back so that her head was on the seat, her long hair spreading down to the floor. Then he lifted her skirt so that her buttocks were presented, framed by the satin garter belt. He ran the crop through her slit, then felt with his fingers.

‘You’re wet through,’ he said, ‘This excites you, doesn’t it?’

She didn’t know how to reply, but he insisted, ‘Do you want me to whip you?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, weakly.

She heard a swish as the crop flew through the air, then a terrible stinging sensation as it rained down on her tender skin. She cried out.

‘You have five more,’ he said, ‘Can you take that?’

‘Yes,’ she replied.

When he had finished six red lines criss-crossed her lovely buttocks. He hadn’t really whipped her hard, and she knew that no harm was done, but she had had the most tremendous orgasm when she was being whipped, and knew that this lifestyle was for her.

But he wasn’t satisfied. John was determined that Gwen would have a butt-plug fitted, there and then. She hadn’t brought the offending instrument with her, and he seemed to have anticipated this, for he produced an identical one from his pocket, and immediately started to lube her arsehole, gently easing the cream into her tight hole, first with one finger, then, tentatively, with two. She gasped as he pushed harder, forcing them past her anal sphincter, but the pain eased slightly, then he withdrew his fingers and she felt the tip of the cold hard plug being slowly pushed into place, widening her resistant virgin anus little-by-little. Tears sprang to her eyes, as the brutal instrument was finally rammed in right up to its rim, and she cried out sharply. He slapped her smartly across her buttock as she yelled.

‘Quiet,’ he said, simply. Then he pulled her to her feet, and let her smooth her skirt down.

‘Walk around a bit, and get used to it. It should stay in place OK now. Tomorrow, we’ll have another look.’

She walked gingerly around the parquet floor, heels clicking loudly in the high-ceilinged silence of the library. He made no move to comfort her after her whipping, or show any sort of warmth, and she felt suddenly alone in her predicament when he abruptly left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

But what must have been about ten minutes later he was back, this time with the young girl who had met her in the hallway.

‘This is Tania,’ he said, gently pushing the other towards her, ‘She will now show you to your room, and make certain that you have everything you require.’

‘But you sent a suitcase full of things to my apartment…’ began Gwen.

‘Surely you didn’t think you would be going back there tonight. Unless, of course, you want to?’


‘The suitcase contains clothing you will need when the first phase of your training is over, and you are ready to live at home again. I sent it because I didn’t want to alarm you by telling you that you were coming here for a week. Not right away, anyway.’

Gwen looked at him doubtfully, but he had already turned away, and was whispering instructions to Tania, who was listening intently. As he talked to her, he idly stroked her thigh below the black minidress, and Gwen felt a pang of jealousy. Tania was very beautiful, slim and long-legged with short blonde hair cut in a pageboy style. Like Gwen, she wore very high heels, and Gwen wondered if she too had undergone ‘training.’

Moments later John patted Tania on the rear, and the young girl bade Gwen follow her. She was acutely conscious of the butt-plug as she walked the long corridor behind the girl’s swaying backside. They stopped at a door which wasn’t locked, and Tania ushered her inside.

There was a double bed, but what most impressed itself upon Gwen’s attention was the fact that one wall was completely mirrored. At second glance it turned out to be one enormous wardrobe, with mirrored sliding doors. Another wall held drawers and cupboards, and the only other wall which did not contain a window looking out across a formal garden had ominous-looking rings set into it above head-height. It took little imagination for Gwen to guess their purpose. But Tania was friendly enough, even if she did not appear to wish to be engaged in conversation, and showed her, with something approaching pride, the wardrobes and their contents. For they seemed to contain the most wonderful array of dresses, for evening and day wear that Gwen had ever seen. Below them was a row of shoes, all high heeled, and when she peeped in the drawers, she saw that they contained gorgeous underwear and nightdresses, the like of which she had only ever dreamed. But of panties, of course, there were none to be seen.

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