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Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 10

I was naked, my legs were spread indecently far apart and my bottom was pushed out towards Doctor Riemen. This would have been quite humiliating all by itself, however Doctor Riemen increased my mortification by spearing my asshole with her fingers and probing deep and mercilessly into my anus.

"Now Gwendoline, I am going to ask you some questions," Doctor Riemen said in a cold, phlegmatic tone of voice, "And you are going to be very honest with all of your answers."

"Yes, Doctor Riemen," I replied reflexively, without any thought of resistance crossing my mind. Her fingers had speared me, and I felt utterly controlled by her while they remained deep inside of me. I felt so vulnerable and helpless while impaled on her fingers, I believe I would have agreed to anything she said.

"Now, dear," Doctor Riemen asked as she twisted her fingers around inside of me, "When did you first discover that you were sexually submissive?"

The question confused me at first. I had submissive fantasies as far back as I could remember. I remember being a huge fan of the story of Cinderella as a girl and used to have dreams at night where I was Cinderella and my cruel stepmother and her abusive daughters kept me naked in their house and forced me to scrub the kitchen floor on my hands and knees and each of them wore a leather belt around their slender waists. And if I failed to scrub the kitchen floor to their satisfaction, those leather belts would come off and be used to swat my poor naked bottom until I yelped in pain.

Eventually I made the connection that these fantasies were sexual in nature, however that realization dawned upon me slowly and gradually. I never talked about this journey of self-discovery with my friends or family. I just kept this all bottled up and never shared it with anybody, until I met Christina. So, when exactly did I discover that I was sexually submissive?

"I think that was probably in the 8th grade, Doctor Riemen," I finally responded, "Some of the older students would tell tales to scare the younger ones. We were told that one of the gymnastic teachers was a sexual predator, and that she would rape girls in the shower after gymnastics practice. I wasn't even certain what rape was back then, but I would get excited at the thought of being naked and overpowered by her in the shower. I actually signed up for her gymnastics class with the hope that the stories were try and she would grab me in the showers one day."

"Oh, you were an eager little submissive," Doctor Riemen enthused, "And did this gymnastics teacher ever take advantage of your naked body while you were in the shower?"

"No, Doctor Riemen," I said with a tinge of regret in my voice, "The stories about her were all rumors. She was very professional. She never touched any of her students."

I felt Doctor Riemen's finger twisting around inside of me and she seemed to consider that before going onto the next question.

"Have you ever masturbated to fantasies about being raped by this teacher in the showers?"

The fingers sank deeper inside of me and I grimaced as I attempted to answer.

"Many times, Doctor Riemen," I responded, "My fantasies were awkward and clumsy at first. I didn't understand what rape was back then. But as I grew to understand the mechanics of how one woman could rape another, my fantasies became more coherent and refined. Eventually the fantasies came to involve the teacher and about four or five of the female students."

"How ambitious," Doctor Riemen said, "And did any of the students at your school ever sexually abuse you in real life?"

"No, Doctor Riemen," I replied.

"Well, dear, it seems as if your real life has been quite boring compared to your fantasy life. At what age, did you finally experience your first submissive sexual encounter?"

"It was at age twenty-one," I replied as her finger probed deep and opened up my asshole even wider.

"Twenty-one?" the dominant woman asked, and she grabbed my tender labia with one hand and pinched it cruelly, while she mercilessly probed my anus with the other.

"You'll have to be punished for waiting so long to find yourself a dominant sexual partner. You should have begun years earlier."

Doctor Riemen then proceeded to ask me for details about my lesbian, shower-rape fantasies. She insisted that I include as much detail as possible and leave nothing out. I had never told anyone about these fantasies before, and to divulge these intimate details to Doctor Riemen, two security guards. Christina, Christina's aunt and Doctor Riemen's assistant was humiliating. My fantasies were quite bizarre and deviant. And Doctor Riemen's office assistant looked so young, innocent and ordinary! She probably thought that I was some sort of outlandish freak!

Doctor Riemen continued to violate my poor, innocent anus with her insistent, probing fingers as she interrogated me. The questions seemed endless, but it was important that I answer them quickly and honestly. Hesitation would bring punishment, such as humiliating pinches or sharp, punishing slaps to my bare buttocks. And if she thought I was trying to be dishonest or evasive, that would be even worse.

By the time the interrogation was over, I was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, I was trembling and Doctor Riemen knew what turned me on sexually, what embarrassed me and what frightened me.

"Did you write all that down?" Doctor Riemen asked her assistant, as she walked back to her desk and removed the latex glove from her hand.

"Almost," her assistant replied, "She was surprisingly cooperative and eager to answer all of your questions. It was hard to keep up."

Doctor Riemen gave her assistant a few more seconds to scribble down my responses and then spoke to Christina and her aunt.

"Your submissive has an extreme phobia about being anally penetrated," she said, "I can put her on a training regimen that will eventually rid her of that fear; or if you prefer; I can leave her phobia in place. It would be nice to know there's a method of punishing her that she won't like."

"Leave her the way she is," Christina responded, "If she hates being anally penetrated, the threat of it could be a great way of controlling her behavior."

* * * * * * * * * *

Having settled that, the next order of business was testing my skin to see how long certain instruments of corporal punishment left marks on me.

"I've been told repeatedly, that you work as a stripper," Doctor Riemen said to me, "And that I'm not to leave any long-lasting marks on your skin. Ms. Ward and Ms. Taylor don't want your punishments to cause you to lose any days at work."

Then she pulled her chair out, about twelve feet from her desk, sat down in it and told me to lie across her lap.

The fabric of her tweed skirt felt rough against my naked thighs, and then I felt Doctor Riemen's hands on my naked buttocks, and I flinched. I had only known Doctor Riemen a very short amount of time, but I was already afraid of her.

"Now, Gwendoline, I can't leave any bruises or long-term marks on you, so that leaves out things like canes and riding crops," Doctor Riemen said, "However I can leave marks on you that fade quickly, so I'm going to try a variety of different punishments on you and see how long the marks last. My assistant will record the results of these trials."

I had just a few seconds to absorb these words before Doctor Riemen began to spank my bare buttocks hard and rhythmically. Her hands seemed awfully strong for a PHD and soon my poor, innocent bottom was stinging with hot, scalding, throbbing pain. I was certain that you could melt a cube of ice or cold butter on my poor bottom by the time she was finished.

"Keira," Doctor Riemen called out to her assistant, "It's 9:25 and her ass is an amaranth shade of red from a fast, efficient hand-spanking. Mark that down and I'll let you know when the color fades."

I was sobbing, my poor bottom was stinging and my face was wet with tears, and I remember feeling outraged that I had been mercilessly spanked; not as a punishment for disobedience or hesitation to obey; but as part of some sort of experiment.

It was 9:59 when the color faded completely from my poor, abused ass. Doctor Riemen's assistant wrote that down in her book, and then Doctor Riemen got ready for her next experiment.

The next, cruel and unusual experiment Doctor Riemen performed on my naked body was with a leather belt. The belt looked old and very worn. I surmised it had been used to punish the naked bottoms of many girls at the Vineyard.

Doctor Riemen ordered me to stand against the wall, press my hands against it firmly, arch my back, spread my legs and thrust my buttocks out towards her.

"Now, balance on the balls of your feet, dear," Doctor Riemen commanded, making things even more difficult for me, "I want to see you flex the muscles in the backs of those gorgeous legs."

I felt intensely exposed and vulnerable, but I obeyed her orders. Stinging blows from the leather belt rained down on my naked flesh almost the instant I was in position.

"Ow, ow, Aghh, Aaghhhhhhhh," I screamed incoherently as Doctor Riemen decorated my ass and the backs of my thighs with reddish-pink marks. She claimed that the marks on my skin were quite beautiful, but I never got a chance to see them. I just got to feel how sore and tender they made my skin feel.

The marks from the leather belt lasted longer than the marks from the hand spanking. It was 11:02 when the marks from the leather belt finally faded. Doctor Riemen told her assistant to record the results of the leather belt on my innocent, naked skin, and then it was on to the next painful experiment.

"Hands behind your back, dear," Doctor Riemen ordered, "I need you to be handcuffed now."

Being a good submissive, I obeyed immediately. I was eager for Doctor Riemen's approval. Christina's aunt had paid a lot of money to get me into the Vineyard, and if I performed badly and made a bad impression on Doctor Riemen, it would make me look bad in front of three very important, dominant women in my life.

One of the security guards handcuffed me, and then Doctor Riemen ordered me to my knees. I knew that more pain was coming, but I didn't know exactly what form it would take. With my wrists bound behind me, my back and buttocks were partially protected, however, my front was vulnerable. It seemed likely that Doctor Riemen would inflict pain on my breasts next.

"This is calorex gel," Doctor Riemen explained, holding up a tube with a plastic cap, "It has chemicals in it that can cause skin to feel like its burning. When applied to the skin, it can cause swelling, redness and itching, however, it does no real damage and the redness tends to fade in two hours or less. I'm going to apply some to your breasts and we shall see how your skin reacts."

Before Doctor Riemen popped the cap open, she donned a pair of latex gloves. The fact that she didn't want to get any calorex gel on her hands, probably should have given me a hint just how much it would hurt when she applied it to my breasts, however my cognitive abilities weren't exactly at their peak that morning.

"Hold her by her arms," Doctor Riemen said to one of the security guards, "Try to keep her from squirming too much."

Even then, I still didn't guess just how much the calorex gel was going to hurt. My deductive reasoning skills were really not at their best that morning.

"Shouldn't we tie her to a chair or something, Doctor?" the security guard asked her, but Doctor Riemen shook her head and said, "No dear, I'd prefer to see how much self-discipline the little submissive has. Consider this to be a test."

Then to me, Doctor Riemen said, "Try to remain still, dear."

That was when I first began to suspect this was going to hurt far more than I was used to.

Doctor Riemen got a huge glob of the calorex gel on two of her gloved fingers and then she began to smear it all over my breasts. She was very methodical the way she worked the greasy substance into my skin. She smeared it across my erect nipples, my areolas, the sides of my breasts, the curved undersides of my breasts and even up near the top. She rubbed hard, making certain that the gel would get well-absorbed into the skin, and at first it felt good. There was no pain, just the feeling of strong, confident fingers exploring a very intimate and responsive part of my female anatomy.

I moaned in response to the feeling, and then Doctor Riemen very calmly said, "It appears the chemical reaction hasn't occurred just yet."

"Chemical reaction, Doctor Riemen?" I asked.

"It's my understanding that the chemicals react to body heat, dear," Doctor Riemen explained, "You may expect them to kick in at any second."

Suddenly the areas of my naked body that Doctor Riemen had touched began to sting. The pain wasn't terrible at first, but bad enough to make my eyes well up with tears. Soon my nipples, my pink areolas and my exposed breasts all began to burn. It was liquid fire, pure and simple fire consuming my breasts. All the tender, sensitive flesh between my ribcage and my collarbone was rapidly becoming an inferno. I attempted to remain still just like Doctor Riemen had ordered, however my body reacted reflexively to the pain and I seemed to be helpless to combat my body's instinctive reactions. I squirmed and wiggled and broke out into a feverish sweat. I sobbed and hot, wet tears rolled down my face. No wonder Doctor Riemen had worn gloves. That horrid gel she had smeared all across my breasts burned like fire.

I moaned and groaned and squirmed, and the pain seemed to last an eternity. My breasts turned reddish pink almost everywhere that Doctor Riemen had touched me. My normally pink nipples had become an angry shade of red, and became even more swollen and erect than before.

"Please, Doctor Riemen," I begged, "Please get this stuff off of me! It's agony!"

Doctor Riemen looked me in the eye very calmly and asked, "Do you wish to use your safe-word, dear?"

I looked over at Christina and her aunt and realized that I couldn't use my safe-word as long as they were in the room. I wanted them both to be proud of me, and using my safe-word would disappoint them both. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "No, it's okay. I can handle it. It hurts like hundreds of stinging nettles but I can handle it."

I continued to sob and perspire and the stinging pain from the calorex gel seemed to go on for hours and hours, however the redness faded after a mere eighty minutes. Doctor Riemen had her assistant write down the results of the calorex test in her book and the security guard was told to unlock me from the handcuffs.

My breasts still felt tender, and my nipples hurt especially bad, however the pain was less than it was before. Either the chemicals became less potent over time, or I was developing a tolerance to the pain...or possibly a combination of both.

"Ruth, I think Gwendoline should be given the opportunity to wash the calorex off of her breasts now," Doctor Riemen said to Christina's aunt, "The security guards will escort her to the showers."

My breasts and nipples were still throbbing with an invasive heat, so I saw this as an act of kindness.

"Thank you, Doctor Riemen," I said timidly as the security guards led me out of her office and down the hallways to where the slave's showers were located.

And it's no mistake that I differentiate between slave's showers and master's showers. There are shower facilities for masters and mistresses, however there are some huge differences in the way their shower rooms were designed.

For instance masters and mistresses have locker rooms, where their clothes can be secured while they shower.

Another difference is privacy. When masters and mistresses shower, they have individual showers with glass doors that allow them to shower without having to worry about other guests or members of the staff ogling their naked bodies.

Slaves shower in a huge group shower-room, with fourteen showerheads and no barriers between you and the next person showering.

The slave's shower-room also had a long observation window cut into one wall, allowing the Vineyard's staff and guests to monitor the slave's while they showered.

It was a deliberate indignity and degradation that the Vineyard made certain that we slaves all knew that we could be openly ogled whenever we showered, however, I found this to be strangely comforting. If you were going to create a BDSM theme park, it was only appropriate they the slaves knew they had no privacy and were always on display. Wasn't that one of the main points of being a sex-slave? To pretend that it wasn't, would just be dishonest.

Just thinking about how my naked body was constantly available for ogling by the Vineyard staff and wealthy dominants caused my sex to respond with a soft, wet, throbbing. If I had my way, I think I'd sentence myself to life-imprisonment here. Every moment I was incarcerated in the Vineyard was like living in a delicious wet dream.

The security guards left me alone in the shower-room, however I sensed that they didn't wander far. I was less concerned about them and more concerned about the burning sensation in my poor nipples and breasts. I worked the knobs for the shower and sprayed cold water on my breasts and did my best to wash the calorex gel out of my skin.

"Aaaiiigghhhhh," I exclaimed. Almost instantly I realized that my breasts were tender to the touch and even mild contact hurt. Washing the calorex gel would be far more difficult than I originally thought. I was going to have to be slow and gentle in the way that I handled my breasts.

My nipples felt more abused and stinging than the rest of me, so I focused on gaining relief for them first. I touched my nipples gingerly and glided my fingertips across them with caution. They were sore and swollen and anything other than the gentlest of touches drove them into excruciating pain.

The cold water helped to numb the pain somewhat, and after fifteen or twenty minutes of lewdly stroking my own nipples and fondling my own breasts, I had reduced the pain down to a manageable level. Of course, Doctor Riemen, Christina and her Aunt Ruth watched the whole thing through the observation window. It was another degradation, but this was the life I had chosen; to be a naked slave-girl, possessed, humiliated, used and punished by dominant women.

As I stood there in the shower, being ogled while I played with my breasts, I had assumed that this was as far as Doctor Riemen was planning to go in abusing me. I had assumed that openly ogling my naked body while I washed my poor breasts was her entire plan.

I had assumed wrong. Her plan was a lot more involved than that.

I had just finished up washing my poor abused breasts, and was making sure I got any calorex residue off of my hands when Doctor Riemen's smartly-dressed assistant walked into the shower-room. Trailing obediently after Doctor Riemen's assistant were five naked women.

All five of them were young, slender, attractive and about my height. They all kept their eyes downcast and their hands behind their backs, as if bound there. Their body language was so submissive, I didn't need to be told that they were slave-girls. It was pretty obvious to anyone that paid attention.

"Okay, girls," Keira called out loud enough for the entire room to hear, "This is Inmate number 1101, sometimes known as Gwendoline. This is her first day, and she doesn't yet know what to expect from her time here."

She walked over to one of the women and smacked her on her bare buttocks, and the crack of her hand smacking against bare skin echoed loudly in the shower-room.
"She's all yours," Keira told her naked slave-girls, and then she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. Just before she got completely out of earshot, I heard her call out, "Doctor Riemen and I will be in the next room, observing you the entire time."

My heart beat faster as I watched the young, athletic slave-girls walk purposefully towards me. There was a coldness in their eyes, and I had no idea what they intended to do.

"What do you want?" I asked as I attempted to back slowly and cautiously away from them. This seemed like the opening sequence from every prison rape scene I'd ever scene from every horrible women's prison movie I'd ever watched.

I was almost immediately backed up against the shower wall, and I felt a new and delicious fear as the other slave-girls closed in on me. For a moment, my heart beat too fast, and I remembered I had a safe-word, but instead of using it, I reveled in my fear and my helplessness. I wanted to see how far I could go down the submissive road. I whimpered and waited to see what these young, athletic-looking, grim-faced slave-girls would do to me.

A slave-girl with strong hands and a boyish haircut reached a hand out and grabbed me by my ponytail. I did nothing to stop her. Then I gasped and cried out in pain when she pulled my ponytail back so far that I was forced to arch my back and stare straight up at the ceiling.

"Tourist," one of the women hissed in my ear contemptuously as she stood very close, "You don't belong here. You look fragile and faint-hearted. You look like one of those Beverly Hills trust fund babies. You won't last three days here. You know how long my mistress has been bringing me here? Three years!"

I trembled and my heart sped-up painfully fast at her words. I had never met this woman before, but the hostility coming off of her was so thick, you could feel it like heat coming off of a radiator.

"She's one of those delicate, swishy, honey-blonde, Paris Hilton types," a tall, athletic-looking brunette opined as she reached out and grabbed my nipple and pinched it painfully, "She thinks that she's too good to be punished by the likes of us."

"You think you're too good for us to punish?" one of the girls asked, and I attempted to answer, but suddenly a strong hand was placed securely over my mouth, making it difficult to talk.

"Hands against the wall," one of them barked out sternly, "Assume the position!"

I wasn't sure what position they meant at first, but I soon found out. My legs were kicked far apart and I was made to bend forward at the waist, while facing the shower wall. My hands were far apart and raised high above my head with my palms flat.

"We're going to wash you inside and out," one of the slave-girls said, triumphantly, relishing her authority over me, "And if you resist or give us any backtalk, you get punished. Understand?"

The girl holding onto my ponytail forced me to keep my head down and the other four obtained body wash and bars of soap and proceeded to wash me from the back of my neck all the way down to the soles of my feet.

The other slave-girls were cruel and ruthless in the way they washed me. My whole body was fair game, but they delighted in focusing on the most sensitive and intimate parts of my anatomy. They spent a lot of time washing my thighs, my buttocks and my breasts, but what they enjoyed more than anything was their overly-enthusiastic work at cleaning my vagina and my anus.

The mean girls spread my poor, stinging buttocks apart, and while I trembled and panted, I could feel strong, determined, yet feminine fingers rubbing over the tender flesh of my asshole. Doctor Riemen had already anally penetrated me earlier and stretched my anal opening wide. My anal cleft was sensitive to the touch, and I didn't really want these girls playing with it, but there wasn't much I could do to stop them.

"Aaaahhhh," I exclaimed as one girl vigorously lathered my pussy, while another thrust her soapy fingers rudely into my anus and attempted to clean me from the inside, out.

I've had a lot of experience with vaginal penetration, but anal penetration was still relatively new and traumatic for me. Every finger that was thrust into my anal orifice felt like rape. I whined and gasped every time that sensitive opening was impaled, but this only encouraged the mean-girls to abuse my tight anal opening even more.

When I squirmed, flinched or gasped at the way my poor rectum was being abused, the girls would laugh at my distress and continue to abuse me.

Several of the girls liked swatting my bare bottom with hard, stinging spanks, and with my bottom soaking-wet, the swats hurt even more than when my skin was dry.

"Spread those legs," one girl would bark at me, and then swat my ass painfully. "Arch that back," another would snap, and I'd get my ass swatted again.

They used any excuse they could think of to punish my poor bottom, any excuse at all. They were slave-girls, just like me. Somewhere in this building, they all had masters or mistresses that ruled their lives. Opportunities to rule over somebody else would be rare for them, so they were probably reveling in this rare opportunity to abuse me, punish me and treat me like their own personal, naked vassal.

"Stand up, and turn around," one of the mean-girls ordered me, and the one gripping my ponytail yanked up on it hard, spurring me to comply.

The girl who had ordered me had an enraged, resentful look on her face, but I still couldn't help but think that she looked beautiful. She had long, red hair and her facial features reminded me a lot of Milla Jovovich, and even though she bared her perfect teeth at me and gave me a look of heat and resentment, I couldn't help thinking just how beautiful she was.

"Hands behind your back," she ordered, and I quickly obeyed, placing my hands behind my back, and crossing them at the wrists.

"You have very nice breasts," the girl with the long, red hair said to me, "So firm, so proud and those nipples of yours are just so pink and erect. It's like they're just begging for attention."

Her words were kind, but the look on her face was still hostile, so I wasn't overly surprised when her hands took possession of my defenseless nipples and began to abuse them.

She pinched them, she pulled on them, she twisted them, yanked them out towards her, and just when the pain was too much, she would stroke them gently. The girl with the boyish haircut was still holding tightly onto my ponytail, and two other girls got a tight grip on my arms, so I couldn't use my hands to defend my poor, abused nipples.

"Tell me that you love me," the redheaded girl said sternly. And I was so shocked by this order that; for several seconds; I was utterly unable to respond.

My nipples were grasped once again, and painfully yanked and pulled away from my body, stretched to an extreme that seemed dangerous. Just how resilient are a girl's nipples? How far can you stretch them before they snap? I screamed in pain and hoped that the redhead didn't do any permanent damage to my poor, abused nipples, but I stubbornly refused to yell out my safe word.

"I love you," I called out, tears in my eyes, and cruel throbbing pain in my abused pink nubs, "I love you, I love you, I love you, mistress!"

The redhead released her grip on my tormented nipples and suddenly she held my face between her hands and merged her lips with mine. Her tongue invaded my mouth and I moaned as her tongue slid over mine. Maybe I'm delusional, but as we kissed I thought I could feel the heat of her anger and resentment turning into the heat of passion and lust.

The woman that held my face in her strong hands, moaned into my mouth as we kissed. The throbbing pain in my nipples turned into a throbbing sexual excitement, and I wanted her. I wanted her like I had never wanted anyone before. This was exactly the sort of abuse and sexual assault that I fantasized about in my most heated sexual fantasies. It was like Cinderella being abused by her evil step-sisters and an innocent school girl getting raped in the shower by her predatory lesbian gymnastics coach all rolled into one.

At that moment, I understood why memberships at the Vineyard were so expensive, they probed you, studied you, analyzed you, and when they understood what you craved and desired the most, they brought your sexual fantasies to life.

The redhead continued to kiss me with a passion and enthusiasm that bordered on fanaticism. My heart beat like a pneumatic drill and I moaned into her mouth as I enjoyed the feeling of her lips on mine, and her tongue inside my mouth.

"Oh, God," I moaned when she broke from the kiss and I panted like a diver that had been underwater for too long.

The tallest of the mean girls laughed and said, "I think the blonde, femme tourist likes you, Laura."

The redhead smiled at me with undisguised sexual enthusiasm and said, "Maybe she's not such a tourist after all. Maybe she really does belong in this place."

Then I was pushed down to my knees. Of course, kneeling in front of Laura, meant that her shaved pussy was level with my face. Her pubic lips were puffy and swollen and (to my eyes) looked eager for attention.

"A femme like you has probably used her mouth before to bring pleasure to a woman," Laura opined.

"I'll bet our swishy, honey-blonde has licked plenty of pussies," the tall, athletic one said, "Haven't you, blondie?"

I felt somebody's toes nudging the soft, vulnerable folds of my sex as I knelt with my knees apart. It seemed that that was more of an attention-getter than a punishment or a sexual provocation.

"Yes, Mistress," I replied to the naked amazon, "I've licked plenty of pussies."

The way these women were treating me was meant to be humiliating...and it was, but it was also arousing. My sexual fantasies always involved me being abused and dominated by strong, self-confident, cruel women and suddenly I had five of them who were willing to bring me low and turn me into their naked, submissive sex-toy. Most women would hate being subjugated and degraded like these women were doing to me, but I was in libidinous heaven.

Laura's pussy was reddish-pink and swollen with desire. Her pubic lips were utterly engorged and wickedly on display. I licked tentatively at one of her inner labia, and she shuddered.

"Harder," Laura snapped at me, "Put some intensity into it!"

I immediately began to tongue her sex more vigorously, and was rewarded with a serious of moaning and gasping sounds. The more spirited my efforts, the more Laura seemed to like it. Some women like me to start off slow and gentle when I begin to lavish attention onto their nether lips. Apparently, Laura wasn't like that. She wanted me to bring my most vigorous and intense tongue-action to her vulva, right from the very beginning.

"Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh," Laura moaned, and her thighs trembled. The other mean-girls laughed. They seemed to enjoy watching, as I sexually serviced their red-headed friend.

Laura grabbed my ponytail in her own strong hands and began to guide my head and face so that I applied my ministrations to the appropriate parts of her anatomy. I wasn't overly surprised that she directed me to her swollen clitoris and insisted that I take it into my mouth.

"Suck on it," the redhead commanded me, "Suck on it hard!"

I sucked her needy clit into my mouth and sucked on it vigorously. Laura was the most impatient lover that I had ever run across in my life. Most women like to have a respectable amount of foreplay before you zero in on their clit. Laura sent me after her clit like, just seconds after I learned her name. Not that we'd been properly introduced or anything, I only knew her name because I overheard one of her friends call her that.

Laura was needy, but she was also responsive. It took maybe fifteen seconds of sucking on her clit before I felt her shudder and spasm like an earthquake that measured 8.5 on the Richter scale.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh Gaaawwwwd," she cried out as she gasped and panted uncontrollably and her thighs trembled and spasmed and occasionally squeezed my skull like she was trying to crush it.

The poor girl must have been denied sexual release for weeks. When she reached her sexual climax, it was like a tsunami burying an entire Japanese coastal village. My face ended up being soaked by her juices, and she continued to pant and spasm, long after the actual orgasm was over.

"Oh, God, that was good," Laura said, her voice soft and reverential, "Do it again."

I brought Laura to a second orgasm, and then I was passed off the next sexually-frustrated woman.

I was passed around from one slave-girl to another, like I was their personal property. And it turns out, that wasn't far from the truth. In the Vineyard, slaves had a hierarchy. The slaves that had been inmates the longest had a superior status to the newer slaves. As the most recently accepted slave in the Vineyard, my status was lower than any other slave in the place.

My inmate number was 1101. The higher your inmate number, the lower your status. The woman with the short, boyish haircut was named Billie, and her inmate number was 1018. The athlete that was over six feet tall (6' 1" I think) was named Allison and her inmate number was 988.

The redhead with the intense eyes and the eager libido was named Laura, and her inmate number was 962. Her slave-status was the highest of any of the women in the slave's shower room.

Allison had really firm buttocks and thighs, and she allowed me to hold onto both as I serviced her pussy with my mouth and tongue, however, I somehow felt a much stronger emotional attraction to Laura. Something about Laura's intensity and authoritarian attitude attracted me to her, like none of the other women in the room. All five women were naked, slender, toned and impressive-looking, but it was Laura that my submissive spirit was attracted to.

It was bizarre, but I found a perverse sort of pride in the fact that Laura was the highest-ranking slave in the room, as she was the one that I had a crush on. I had fallen for the highest ranking of all the slaves that had raped me that afternoon.

All five slave-women used my ponytail to control me, to yank me around in one direction or another, or to force me to follow some order. They preferred to control me by my ponytail, rather than giving me verbal commands. And; of course; if I didn't understand what they wanted me to do right away, they seemed to think that painful swats on my bare buttocks would help me to understand quicker.

By the time I was done servicing all five of the merciless slave-women, I had used my mouth to bring each of them to at least three enthusiastic orgasms each. Of course, my own sexual needs were ignored. My pussy was wet and throbbing, but none of the women in the shower bothered to bring me to orgasm. I was there to be used and exploited, not seduced. They just raped me, used me and then left me sexually frustrated.

* * * * * * * * * *

The female inmates that raped me in the shower took hours washing me, spanking me and using my mouth to bring them to orgasm. By the time it was all over, I was both physically and emotionally exhausted.

I don't know how long I was lying there on the shower-room floor, but when I finally opened my eyes and looked up, my relentless tormenters were gone, and Doctor Riemen's assistant was standing over me.

"You can't lie there all day, Gwendoline," Kiera informed me, dispassionately, "Doctor Riemen is expecting you in her office."

I got up off the floor and stood on wobbly legs. Kiera produced a towel and proceeded to dry me off from my scalp, all the way down to the soles of my feet, and then grabbed me by my right arm and led me naked down the hallways until we eventually ended up in Doctor Riemen's office again.

Kiera was young, slender, harmless-looking and shorter than me, however I still had to do anything she said. She definitely outranked me, even though she was nothing more than Doctor Riemen's assistant. And so, when she grabbed me by the arm and led me down multiple hallways, I allowed her to lead me without the slightest amount of resistance or complaint.

I was a slave-girl (or an inmate, depending on which terminology you preferred), so even office assistants outranked me.

And while I had been in the shower-room, an unfamiliar bondage device had been installed in Doctor Riemen's office. There was a flat, wooden base at the bottom, and two vertical, metal poles rising up from the base. Kiera ordered me to stand on the base, and then she secured my wrists and ankles to the vertical poles, via leather wrist and ankle-restraints. Of course, my ankles were bound far apart, thus putting my pubic lips lewdly on display. My wrists were bound apart and well over my head, thus causing my breasts to lift themselves up even higher.

"Welcome back, dear," Doctor Riemen said to me, after her assistant had made me helpless, "I thought it was time that you and I had another chat."

And by chat, she of course meant interrogation.

Of course, I didn't argue with her about her choice of words. I just kept my face neutral and said, "Yes, Doctor Riemen."

Doctor Riemen and her assistant took up positions, standing near my helpless nudity. Doctor Riemen looked very respectable. Yet, I still felt threatened, as I knew what she was capable of. Also, I knew the frightening significance of many of the very intimidating items that her assistant was offering up on her stainless-steel tray.

The tray was conspicuously held in a location where I could easily see everything on it. There was a tube of the dreaded Calorex gel, a box of latex gloves, eight clothespins and a bowl of ice cubes, and a handheld electronic device. The device had a handle that strongly resembled the handle of a hunting knife, but instead of a blade protruding from the handle, there was a long, red, plastic piece that got narrower and narrower as you got closer and closer to the tip.

Doctor Riemen placed one of her fingertips gently up against the underside of one of my swollen, sensitive nipples and began to explain what was going to happen next.

"I am going to ask you some questions, dear," she explained, sounding very reasonable and professional, "And you will answer every one truthfully and completely. If you hesitate in your answers, or if I think that you left anything out; or worse; if I think that you're being dishonest in your replies, I shall be forced to use some of the items on this tray to hurt your young, naked and helpless body. Do you understand, dear?"

I nodded nervously in agreement, and timidly responded, "Yes, Doctor Riemen."

"Very good," she said, smiling amicably, "Now, before we begin, do you recognize all the items on Kiera's tray and understand how they might be used to discipline an uncooperative slave?"

I looked over at the stainless-steel tray Kiera was holding, and shook my head in the negative.

"Of course, I recognize the Calorex gel," I replied, "I know how that can be used to hurt a slave-girl's breasts."

"Oh, it can be used on other parts of a slave's anatomy as well," Doctor Riemen explained, "It can be used on a slave-girl's labia, or a slave-boy's penis. It can also be used to coat the interior of a slave's anus. I understand that can be very painful and traumatic, but you shook your head. Does that mean there's something on that tray you don't understand?"

"I'm not really sure what the ice cubes are for," I explained, "And the electronic device. I've never even seen a device that looked like that before. I'm not certain what it's called, or what it's used for."
"Oh, my dear," Doctor Riemen said, smiling, "You really are inexperienced and innocent! Ruth has brought you to the Vineyard not a moment too soon!"

"The ice cubes," she explained, "are very cold and can be quite a shock to your nervous system when applied to bare skin. Their coldness can be especially jarring, when they are applied to a slave's pubic lips, her clitoris or thrust into her anus and deep into her rectum."

I was shocked at this announcement. Could Doctor Riemen really do that to me? It sounded brutal.

While I was assimilating the absolutely frightening new information about the use of ice-cubes on slaves, Doctor Riemen changed the subject and picked up the electronic device.

"This is known as a T-Zapper," she explained, "It delivers a painful spark of concentrated electricity at this end here."

As she said this, Doctor Riemen held up her device so that I could see the small, gold-plated contacts at the tip of her device.

"The electric zap that this delivers to the slave doesn't do any real damage," she explained, "However it can be quite painful, especially when applied to an slave-girl's more sensitive areas."

Doctor Riemen then touched the tip to my indecently exposed pubic lips and said, "Should a slave allow her mind to wander or become distracted, I find a zap of sixty-five kilovolts directed squarely on the sensitive flesh of her nipples, vulva, or her anus, works wonders in bringing her mind back into proper focus."

"Yes, Doctor Riemen," I replied nervously. I wasn't feeling any electric shock, so I was assuming that she needed to press some sort of button to activate the spark of concentrated electricity. I resolved to answer all of Doctor Riemen's questions as quickly, openly and honestly as possible. I was pretty certain that I didn't want to have the swollen lips of my sex subjected to painful electric shocks.

"Now, Gwendoline, dear," Doctor Riemen said, "Did you enjoy being raped by the other female inmates, in the shower?"

The question caught me totally off guard. It didn't seem like the sort of question that a slave would get asked during an interrogation.

Apparently, I hesitated, and without warning there was a loud zapping sound and sixty-five kilovolts was applied to my vulnerable and sensitive pubic lips.

"Aaaaauughhhhhhh," I screamed resoundingly. Electric shock to your genitals really hurts, and I cried out shamelessly in response to the sudden and intense pain.

"Any time you hesitate in providing your answers," Doctor Riemen explained calmly, "It causes me to think that you are attempting to conceal something from me. Now, please answer the question, without any hesitation. Did you enjoy being raped by the other female inmates?"

"Yes, Doctor Riemen," I blurted out somewhat louder and more emphatically than I had originally planned, "It was degrading and humiliating, but I enjoyed it!"

Smiling sadistically, Doctor Riemen swiveled her zapping toy around and pointed the sparking end at one of my innocent nipples. My attention immediately focused on the pink, vulnerable flesh she was pointing to, and then she asked, "And exactly why did you enjoy it?"

Doctor Riemen proceeded to ask me a series of questions about my experience in the slave's shower-room. I nervously kept watch on Doctor Riemen's interrogation device and answered every question she had, rapidly and without hesitation. Of all the things the women did to me, which did I enjoy the most? Was there anything they did that I absolutely hated? Was there anything they didn't do that I wished they had done? Of all the women who had abused me, were there any that I especially feared or disliked? Of all the women who had abused me, were there any that I had a strong preference for?

Some of my answers sounded childish and inarticulate, but Doctor Riemen seemed to appreciate inarticulate answers that were blurted out hastily, more than articulate answers that required me to think, hesitate and organize my words into intelligent sentences.

I confessed to my strong feelings for Laura, and Doctor Riemen wanted to know why I had such strong feelings for her. All five women were beautiful in one way or another. Two of them were professional models. Why; Doctor Riemen wanted to know; did I fixate on Laura and not any of the other four women?

The only answer I could think of was that Laura had such a strong intensity to her. I sensed a really vigorous desire to dominate in her. She wasn't just punishing and humiliating me in the shower because she was following orders. She seemed to have a real passion for it. And her passion somehow seemed to make everything more delicious.

I mean...the answer I gave sounded something like that. I don't remember my exact words. I was very nervous and talking very fast. I could have come up with a much more articulate and reasonable answer if Doctor Riemen had given me more time to think, but thinking had been declared against the rules. If I took time to think, the most intimate parts of my anatomy would be subjected to painful electric shocks.

When the interrogation was over, an Asian-American woman was allowed into Doctor Riemen's office. She came in with two gear bags and she began to unpack stuff from her bags while began to Kiera unbuckle the restraints on my wrists and ankles.

"Don't go anywhere, Miss Schön," the Asian-American woman said to me, "I need to get some photos of you before you go home."

"Photos, Mistress? I asked, horrified.

I had been in the shower for hours. My hair was still wet. My makeup had no doubt run from being in the shower and from crying. I was certain that I was in no shape to be photographed.

"Can I at least have a few minutes to redo my makeup and fix my hair first, Mistress?" I asked.

"No," Doctor Riemen said curtly, "The Vineyard prefers that submissives look somewhat abused and maltreated in all official photos. It helps to maintain the illusion that all of our inmates are here against their will."

"You look just fine," the Asian-American said, and patted me on my bare shoulder somewhat reassuringly.

The Asian-American was almost painfully skinny, but she moved with the fluid grace and energy of a professional dancer. I decided that I liked her, and would have gladly allowed her to feel me up, make out with me and fuck me mercilessly with her fingers, but all she wanted to do was take photos of me.

She wasn't dressed like Doctor Riemen or her assistant. She was wearing a black, cotton shirt with long sleeves, that looked comfortable, but old and worn-out. She wore black yoga pants that looked very comfortable and running shoes that were black with black laces. The words ninja photographer ran through my head, and I had to suppress a laugh. Her Asian features and all black attire didn't make her a ninja, but my mind was wandering into that sort of territory.

Despite her small breasts, I thought the Asian-American woman looked cute. Of course, I was so sexually worked up after the libidinous incident in the shower-room, almost any woman would have looked good to my eyes. I was eager for just about anybody to touch me.

The Asian-American woman (I later learned her name was Vivian) took some readings off of me with her light meter and then began the process of having me pose for the photos.

I was specifically instructed not to smile for the photos, and then told how to pose for full-frontal photos, profile photos, rear photos and head-shots.

"I think we're done here," Vivian said, after getting about six-dozen photos of me, "What file name do you want me to upload these to?"

Doctor Riemen gave her a file name that included my inmate number, then Vivian packed up her photography gear and made a graceful exit.

Vivian had a cute, heart-shaped, innocent face with soft lips and adorable almond-shaped eyes. I was disappointed that she barely touched me the entire time she was in the room with me. My pussy was wet between my legs and kept reminding me with insistent throbs how much it truly needed some sort of serious attention.

* * * * * * * * * *

It seemed like it had been days since the last time I had set foot on the main lobby, however it had actually only been about six hours, maybe seven.

The perky girl from the receptionist desk was still there and was still super-humanly cheerful and eager to please.

"Doctor Riemen, how are you?" she asked, brimming with enthusiasm and good cheer.

"I'm doing quite well, Rose," Doctor Riemen replied sedately, "Do you think you could fetch the personal effects for our newest member, please?"

When she said the newest member, Doctor Riemen was referring to me, and when she said personal effects, she was referring to my watch, my iPhone, my purse and all of the clothes I had been wearing earlier that morning.

Rose got up from her chair, walked over to the closet where my personal effects were locked up, located them and brought them back. I noticed that she didn't hand the box with my personal effects to me. She handed it to Doctor Riemen.

"Thank you, Rose," Doctor Riemen said, her tone crisp and professional, "Oh, and before you sit down, I'd like it very much if you were to order Gwendoline to kiss your feet."

"You what?" Said Rose, her perky and enthusiastic demeanor suddenly fading, "Oh, I'm not really that sort of employee. My job description doesn't really require me to have any physical contact with the inmates."

Doctor Riemen arched an eyebrow and it seemed to me that the temperature in the lobby had dropped by about ten degrees.

"It is not required," Doctor Riemen said calmly and professionally, "However it is permitted. And from time to time, the handler of an inmate may request that you engage in physical contact of one kind or another with an inmate. And since the handlers outrank you and have a great deal more authority and influence in this corporation, I would think that you would be eager not to lose the good will of any of the handlers, and that you would not refuse any favors that they might ask of you."

Doctor Riemen gave the office functionary several seconds to digest those words and absorb the full significance of them.

Rose was wide-eyed and silent as she considered Doctor Riemen's words. She bit her lower lip nervously and silence filled the lobby. Eventually Rose came to a decision and said, "Miss Schön, I would like you to get down on your hands and knees and kiss my feet."

The request came out of Rose's mouth, however, as I got down on my hands and knees and saw Rose's toes peeking out from the faux suede of her high-heeled shoes, it felt like it was Doctor Riemen's authority that was making me do this. I kissed Rose's toes softly, submissively and as prettily as I could, however I didn't feel the least bit submissive to Rose. Rose was just a young, perky office employee. Doctor Riemen was the one who wielded authority. Doctor Riemen was the one with the power and the desire to punish submissive girls like me.

"And you owe this level of respect to every employee who works here," Doctor Riemen said authoritatively as I remained naked, head down, on my hands and knees on the lobby floor, "To the handlers, to the office staff, the medical staff, our security guards, our IT staff, and even our cleaning people."

I kissed the receptionist's toes and I wondered why Doctor Riemen didn't have me kiss Kiera's feet. If this gesture of submissive respect was so important to her, why didn't she have me kiss the feet of her assistant? Or for that matter, why didn't she have me kiss the feet of the photographer? Or the girls who raped me in the shower?

I rolled the question around in my mind and decided that there was probably some sort of unresolved issues between Doctor Riemen and Rose. Perhaps she wanted Rose to be less cheerful and more imperious when dealing with the slaves. I didn't know anything for certain. Anyway, I was just a slave. I decided that it was out of my hands, and that I would just follow orders and let Doctor Riemen deal with personality conflicts she had with the office staff in whatever manner she deemed fitting.
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