Cheryl's Passion Ch. 04

Prue stared at April, with a confused looked frozen on her face. The look I gave April probably wasn't much different. Nobody had prepared me in advance for what was happening right now. I was feeling awkward and at loose ends.

Then, is a very stern, non-nonsense tone, April snapped at me, "Cheryl, stand at attention!"

April had drilled me on this. There were several positions that she had taught me, including the inspection position, the abasement position, the bridge position, the down-dog position, the table-top position, the sleeping-hero position, the camel position and standing at attention.

When April ordered me to stand at attention, it wasn't like when they stand at attention in the military. April's definition was different.

When April ordered me to stand at attention, it meant that I was expected to stand with my legs far apart, my hands behind the back of my neck, my tummy sucked in, my elbows pulled back, my chin up and my breasts thrust forward.

It left a girl feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable, and that was pretty much the point. April wanted me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

April checked my posture over, nodded in approval and then turned to Prue.

"Go ahead and touch her, if you like," April said, "I give you permission."

I trembled slightly at those words. In polite society, I would be the one whom Prue would need to turn to get permission to touch my naked body. But here and now; the Ladd family home; I was a naked slave, and my mistress was the one that Prue needed to turn to for permission.

Prue sucked in air through clenched teeth and looked at me expectantly, looking for some sign of approval or disapproval I suppose. I no longer felt it was my place to voice my opinion on such matters. April was my mistress, and I should allow her to make such decisions for me.

April urged Prue to hurry up and make a decision. Prue's face was filled with emotional turmoil, and I could tell she was conflicted. She was such a gentle, good-natured person, and what April was doing to me was humiliating and objectifying.

And I found the humiliation and objectification to be delicious. Prue didn't understand that yet, but I was hoping she would before too long. When April was cruel and merciless, and imposed upon me gorgeous nakedness, luxuriant humiliation and sweet shame, it made my whole body feverishly hot and lit a pulsing fire in my loins.

Prue bit her lip, looking from me to April, and then back to me again. Apparently, it was a huge step for a sweet girl like Prue to participate in April's BDSM games and add further to my debasement.

Then April smiled at Prue, and said, "Prudence, Cheryl actually gets quite a sexual charge out of me treating her like a slave. Put your hand between her legs and feel her sex right now. If she's not soaking wet, I'll allow her to get dressed and the two of you can spend all night long, chatting like old friends catching up."

Prue looked somewhat eager to agree, but also apologetic. Then she looked me in the eye and asked, "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead, Prue," I smiled and said, "I want you to. I do."

My heart sped up and I felt shamed by my submissive acquiescence. I stool there, naked in April's dining room, with April's mother watching only a few feet away, as Prue's inquisitive hand cupped my swollen pubic lips. April watched with intense eyes as my vulva was tested, and Prue cautiously inserted one finger in between my swollen labia and slowly probed deep inside my wet, pulsing sex.

"Wow," Prue said softly, and held up a hand, glistening wet with my juices. She stared at her hand, eyes glazed over, apparently fascinated at my libidinous reaction to being abused, humiliated and ordered about.

"You were right," Prue said softly, "She's soaking wet."

Then April surprised us both by saying "Prue, go ahead and suck your fingers. Clean off all her sweet nectar. I can tell you want to."

Prue slowly brought her fingers, covered in my wetness, to her open mouth and sucked each one as she stared at my nakedness. I shivered in the deliciousness of her stare. I took in a long, slow, deep breath and wallowed in the delicious feelings of shame and humiliation. April had just reduced me to a naked sex-object to be used and punished right in front of one of my friends from high school, and instead of being offended or outraged at April, a wave of potent desire passed through my naked body, stimulating my already-heated loins and causing my nipples to visibly harden. Did this make me some sort of sexual weirdo, or aberrant freak? I wasn't really sure, and I didn't really care. Being sexual submissive to April made me feel more vigorous and alive than anything else I'd ever tried in my young life, and I wasn't willing to give it up, no matter how odd outsiders might view my behavior.

"I had no idea that Cheryl would turned on by abuse and humiliation," Prue said. Then she added, "I had no idea anybody out there got turned on by abuse and humiliation!"

"I only figured it out myself just recently," I replied.

"Cheryl is young and going through a voyage of self-discovery," April said, watching Prue intently. Then she very deliberately added, "Perhaps you are too."

Prue harrowed her brow and responded, "What do you mean?"

"Cheryl is a natural submissive, and she had no idea up until just recently. Perhaps you're a natural dominant."

Prue rolled her eyes and an awkward, uneasy smile formed on her face.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no," she replied, "I don't think that's very likely."

April raised one eyebrow and said, "Well, we'll just have to wait and see. But since Cheryl is my slave; and I control access to her; you'll have to at least act like a dominant if you want to play with her."

"What do you mean?" Prue asked, and I suspected I knew what was coming.

"I've given Cheryl a strict set of rules to follow," April explained, "She's supposed to be naked at all times when she's in my house. She's supposed to obey my orders without question or hesitation. She's supposed to address me as mistress when she's in my house. She's also supposed to address any of my female guests as mistress."

April paused and then smacked my bare buttocks, causing me to gasp, but I maintained my position at attention, then April continued, "Cheryl failed to address you as mistress, and she hesitated when I told her to answer the door in the nude. She'll have to be disciplined for her failure to follow the rules."

April fondled my naked buttocks and then added, "I think you should punish her for failure to follow the rules. It would be a good opportunity for you to learn."

I had been expecting that April would say something like this, but Prue seemed legitimately shocked. Her mouth dropped open, but no words came out.

"It actually kind of makes sense," April's mother opined to Prue, "Cheryl's lapses affected you more than anyone else."

"But if they affected me, shouldn't I be the one who decided if she's punished or not?" Prue asked. "What if I decide I don't want to punish her?"

April held on to my left buttock and squeezed it tightly, saying, "As Cheryl is my slave, I'm the one who decides if she gets punished or not. You could refuse to punish her, but if you do, I might just decide to cut off your access to her."

Prue's brow furrowed at that. I think she was calculating, trying to access how much she wanted to be with me verses how much she didn't want to punish me.

"Also, there's this," April added, "If you agree to spank Cheryl, her punishment will only be eighteen swats on her bare bottom. If you refuse to spank Cheryl, then I'll punish her. And if I have to do it, Cheryl will get thirty-six swats."

It was simple math. By agreeing to punish me, Prue would actually be saving me from an additional eighteen swats. I was going to be spanked one way or the other, so the most compassionate thing Prue could possibly do was to put me over her knee and give me the smaller of the two punishments.

"Where should we do it?" Prue finally asked, defeated by April's logic.

April let go of my buttocks and grabbed a chair from the dining room. She set it out, midway between the kitchen and the dining room table and invited Prue to sit down. I was then compelled to lie across Prue's lap.

I envisioned what a strange situation this was. Prue was a friend of mine from high school, and now here I was, lying across her lap, offering up my naked buttocks for her to abuse and punish.

Prue was a very bizarre choice to act as my disciplinarian. She was one of the most innocent and welcoming people I've ever met. She was nice to everyone. Getting punished by her, would be like getting punished by a character from a Walt Disney cartoon.

"I'm sorry I have to do this, Cheryl," she said as she rested one hand on the small of my back.

"It's okay, Mistress," I told Prue, "I want you to do it."

This was only half-true. I craved humiliation, strict rules and cruel punishments, but I also feared them. I suppose I was a little bit like those people who ride roller-coasters. They wait in long lines to ride them, but they still scream and hold onto the handles for dear life when they're rushing along at one-hundred miles an hour and being flipped upside-down.

"Ask her properly," April prompted me, and it took me a few seconds to realize what she meant.

Just the day before, April had come up with a new idea to humiliate me. It was something that made me more of an active participant in my own punishments, rather than just a passive victim. Before each punishment, April had come up with wording I was supposed to say, basically requesting that I be punished.

"Please discipline me, Mistress," I said to Prue, "So that I might be truly repentant and learn how to be a better slave."

Saying those words made me feel humbled and defeated when it was just April in the room with me. But with April's mother and Prue in the room, I felt at least twice as humiliated.

And yet, the humiliation was delicious. There was a tingle in my pussy as I realized how degraded I must look, naked, submissively offering up my buttocks to be punished by a high school friend, while April and April's mother watched nearby.

Prue's first swat across my bare bottom had no force behind it. I know she didn't want to hurt me, but even my grandmother could hit harder than that.

"That one doesn't count," April admonished Prue, "If you're going to discipline my slave-girl, you're going to have to spank her a lot harder than that. Are you going to be able to discipline Cheryl, or should I take over now?"

That seemed to motivate Prue. Three stinging spanks rained down on my left buttock in rapid succession, making my flinch in response.

"Much better," April said, approving of Prue's enthusiastic blows, "Just fifteen more to go."

I gasped and writhed through the next fifteen swats. Prue was an athletic girl and had a strong right arm. I was staring down at the floor as Prue assaulted my defenseless, bare bottom, but I could well imagine that my stinging bottom was turning an angry-red color.

"Ohhhhhhh," I moaned after the spanking had stopped. My poor bottom felt cooked. It was painful and tender. I could imagine a cube of butter melting on it.

My face was wet with tears, and I was still crying. I tried to muffle the sounds of my sobbing, as I didn't want Prue to realize how much she had hurt me, but Prue still figured it out, and began apologizing to me before I was even permitted to get up off her lap.

Once I was standing on my own two feet, Prue wrapped her arms around me. She held my naked body tightly, pressing my naked breasts and thighs closely into the fabric of her t-shirt and tight blue jeans. My head hung low and Prue allowed me to cry on her shoulder, while she apologized again and again for punishing my poor bottom.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Prue said over and over again like a mantra, "I didn't want to do it. April made me. Please don't hate me, okay?"

If I weren't in so much pain, I could have laughed. Prue sounded so desperate for my forgiveness. She still didn't understand how this worked. April wasn't some sort of evil villain, and I wasn't a damsel in distress. I found April's strict rules to be breathtaking. The humiliations of exposing my naked body April and her confederates, made me feel aroused and alive. And I found the stinging pain of April's cruel punishments to be delicious.

Everything April did to me made my pussy throb and turn soaking wet with desire. Yes, I trembled, flinched and sobbed when I was made to suffer an agonizing punishment, but that didn't mean that I didn't savor the pain of leather belt, leather strap or firm bare hand on my bare skin. It didn't mean that I didn't find the pain delicious.

"Mistress, I love you," I heard my trembling voice saying, "I could never hate you. And I could never hate April either. The things April does to me are like an aphrodisiac. The humiliations, the painful punishments, being compelled into total obedience, it makes everything so much more intense than mere sex could ever be."

"Seriously?" Prue said, her grip on me loosening, "You really get a sexual thrill from being treated like a slave?"

Prue pulled back enough that she and I could look each other in the eye. Her face looked so innocent and so open. April and I were shocking her by exposing her to the realities of our bizarre, perverted, deviant world. I felt guilty at first, exposing such an innocent, virtuous, pristine girl to my kinky lifestyle, but then I remembered, it wasn't me that dragged Prue into this. The decision had been April's and April's alone. I was just a naked slave-girl. I wasn't allowed to make these kinds of decisions.

"I do, Mistress," I replied to Prue's question, "I know you probably find that to be confusing. You've never run across a girl like me before. You probably think I'm some sort of bizarre pervert, but I really and truly do get a sexual thrill from being treated like a slave."

Suddenly Prue was hugging me again and her soft voice was reassuring and almost maternal.

"I don't think that you're a bizarre, pervert," Prue said as she held me close. "You're a very sweet, darling girl. Maybe I'm just too naïve and inexperienced. I just hope that you're happy."

* * * * * * * * * *

Coach Jenneke was the last guest to arrive. She had hoped to arrive earlier and was disappointed when she learned that she had missed witnessing Prue give me an over the knee spanking.

Dinner conversation focused mainly on Prue's questions about my unconventional sexual needs. She wanted to know everything about my sexual desires, how long I had had them, what I liked most about being punished, my favorite forms of bondage, my preferred types of punishment, what B&D things had I already experienced, what sort of B&D things was I hoping to experience in the future, how many females had I already allowed to dominate me, had I allowed any males to treat me like a slave, was I interested in men, and the questions just went on and on.

April sat right next to me, occasionally stroking my bare thighs underneath the table, and ordered me to answer all of Prue's questions truthfully and in as great a detail as I could possibly manage.

I squirmed a lot during dinner, partially due to the stinging tenderness of my punished bottom, but also partially due to the looks the other women at the table gave me. Prue had a look of shock and disbelief on her face as I answered her questions. Coach Jenneke had a look of undisguised lust and sexual hunger on her face. April's mother tried to keep her facial expression neutral, but several times I caught her with a look of sexual desire on her face as well.

I found the experience to be exhausting. Prue's curiosity was boundless, and her questions were extraordinarily intimate and personal. I felt like Prue was ripping my soul out of my body and holding it up for everyone at the dining room table to examine.

Near the end of dinner, April made a deal with Prue that I didn't expect, but probably should have.

"I enjoyed watching Cheryl punished by one of her friends," April admitted, "And I'd like to see you punish her often. Maybe it's evil of me to propose this, but I'm going to propose it anyway."

There was a pause, and everyone at the table (including me) hung on April's next words.

"Every time you give Cheryl a spanking, I'll allow you to have sex with her. And if you give her a severe punishment; like a whipping or a cropping; I'll allow you to have an entire weekend with her."

"A whipping?" Prue asked, her face lit up with shock, "Surely Cheryl doesn't allow you to whip her."

"Oh, really?" April countered, "After dinner, I'll take you down to the basement. That's where we have Cheryl's whipping post."

"Whipping post?" Prue asked, her face now going dramatically pale.

April ordered me to clear dirty dishes off the table, and while I was busy laboring away at that, April took Prue down to the basement to show her all manner of shocking things down in the basement. Coach Jenneke tagged along as well. She probably wanted to see the look on Prue's face when she was exposed to all of April's wicked BDSM toys. In addition to the whipping post, there was a pillory, shackles, a collection of whips and a number of other wicked things that would shock the pants right off of a poor, innocent girl like Prue.

"April is going to enjoy corrupting her," Mrs. Ladd told me as I began to run hot water for washing the dirty dishes, "I almost wish I could go down there and watch."

"Why don't you?" I asked as I held my hand underneath the tap and waited as the water went from cool, to warm, to hot.

"Cheryl wants me to stay up here to supervise you," Mrs. Ladd said, "She said you'll feel more like a slave, if you have an overseer, constantly watching you and judging you as you toil away at your menial labors."

"She's probably right about that," I said as I began to rinse the dishes off underneath the hot water and then I asked Mrs. Ladd where she kept her dish sponges and dish washing liquid.

"Oh, I keep those down here," Mrs. Ladd said and then she squatted down and opened up a cabinet down underneath the sink. Her actions seemed to innocent, I never guessed that something nefarious was in the works.

Mrs. Ladd handed me a dish sponge and a plastic bottle of Ajax dish washing liquid. Mrs. Ladd remained squatting after she handed me these things, and I didn't really consider that odd at the time, however, in retrospect, I probably should have.

And then, suddenly, I felt a stainless-steel shackle being locked tightly around my left ankle.

"Mrs. Ladd!" I exclaimed, suddenly shocked at her actions. The shackle was attached to a stainless-steel chain, and a half-hearted kicking motion soon revealed that the chain wasn't very long, perhaps twenty inches in length.

"The shackle and the chain were April's idea," Mrs. Ladd admitted somewhat sheepishly, "She said restricting your freedom while you performed menial household chores in the nude would help get you into the mindset of a slave. And the other end of the chain is bolted very securely to the concrete floor underneath the sink. Knowing that should prevent you from getting any foolish ideas about getting free."

"It's not like I was going to try and go anywhere," I protested, "This is totally unnecessary!"

"April disagrees," Mrs. Ladd countered, "In her opinion, this will serve as a constant and humiliating reminder of your status. You're not her girlfriend and you're not our maid. You're her slave, and she wants you to be constantly treated like one, so that you won't forget."