Working as an emotional support companion meant different things depending on who hired me. Some of the clients wanted to whip me and hear me scream in intense pain. Other clients were more interested in seeing me naked and bound.

Such was the case with Sharon. I never learned Sharon’s last name. Noel booked the appointment and I just went to the address Noel gave me.

Sharon was organizing a bachelorette party for one of her friends. The friend’s name was Janet Draper. Janet was getting married and it seemed that before she got married, she was going to get one last hurrah where she got to indulge in blatant displays of sapphic lust with a naked stranger.

The bachelorette party was at a night club in Augustus Beach. I arrived at the club slightly before 9:00 PM. I had been booked for three hours, and I was supposed to meet up with Sharon before the party began.

* * *

“Well, Noel told me you were attractive,” Sharon commented as I stood in the manager’s office and stripped naked, “but that was damning with faint praise. You’ve got an ass like Josephine Skriver and legs like a dancer! You’re amazing!”

“Thank you,” I said as I disrobed.

“If Janet had met you six months ago, she would have become infatuated with you and we wouldn’t even be having a wedding right now! You are totally her type!”

And the person she’s marrying isn’t” I asked cautiously.

“She’s marrying Captain Beck’s son,” Sharon explained, “She doesn’t love him, but being married to a Beck will be good for her career.”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t know anything about the Beck family, but apparently, they were wealthy and influential. Janet was a police detective and she wanted to move up in the ranks. From what Sharon was telling me, being a Beck would get her special treatment and fast-track her career.

“But tonight isn’t about the Becks,” Sharon added, “Tonight is about Janet and Janet’s beautiful, naked slave-girl. It’s your job to make Janet deliriously happy tonight. Can you do that?”

“I’m famous for my skill at making women happy,” I replied.

“I guess we’ll see,” Sharon replied, “Turn around. Put your elbows on that.”

Sharon gestured towards the desk. I bent over, instantly aware of how I was putting myself on display. My anus, buttocks and shaved pubes were all shamelessly being exhibited for Sharon to inspect. Then, Sharon’s voice became stern and she rapped the inside of my ankle with her foot as she said “Spread.”

I spread my legs far apart, leaving my public lips even more exposed and leaving me feeling vulnerable. Sharon snapped on a latex glove and then felt her hand on my pussy, kneading my pubic lips and getting me excited.

“If you have a wet pussy and hard, erect nipples, it will make the evening more enjoyable,” Sharon commented as she played with my pussy, eventually inserting a finger into my vagina.

“For me or for Janet?” I asked. I was finding it difficult to tale as my breathing was labored. Sharon knew how to probe a woman’s sex to get a sexual response. She seemed to know all the sensitive spots inside me, and she probed them skillfully with her fingertips.

“It should make things better for both of you,” Sharon commented and then she reached over and pinched one of my nipples while simultaneously fingering my pussy.

“Ouch,” I exclaimed as my nipple was painfully pinched and pulled. My poor, innocent nipple was being cruelly abused, but my submissive nature had kicked in and I felt like Cinderella being abused by one of her wicked stepsisters. Cinderella never rebelled against the cruelties inflicted upon her. She suffered through humiliations and unfair punishments with cooperation and grace. I intended to do the same with Sharon.

I spread my legs even wider as Sharon probed my sex. And I even pinched my own nipples when Sharon ordered me to use my fingers to help get my nipples hard. I was shockingly obedient, and I did whatever Sharon told me to do.

And when she told me to rise, and place my hands behind my back, I didn’t even question the intent behind such an order. I stood, placed my hands obediently behind my back and I was rewarded with the sensation of cold, stainless-steel on my wrists and a metallic, clicking sound as Sharon handcuffed my hands behind my back.

“Sharon?” I asked, not certain if this was part of the bachelorette party or not. Janet was a police detective. I think Sharon was a police sergeant, and I had been in Paul Darcy’s home when Paul Darcy was killed. I had been certain that the police knew nothing about that, but what if I was wrong? Did the handcuffs mean that I was under arrest?

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Sharon assured me, “It will be more fun for Janet to have you naked and helpless for the next three hours. You’re her prisoner and you’re not to have use of your hands for the entire night.”

So, I wasn’t under arrest. I was just bound for the purpose of the bachelorette party. I was accustomed to being bound and naked for the entertainment of dominant women, ataşehir escort bayan so I could handle that. I smiled at Sharon and asked, “So, when do I meet the blushing bride?”

As if on cue, the door to the manager’s office opened and in walked a young, woman with dark, flowing hair and a svelte, athletic figure. She wore a black blazer, a white blouse, black slacks, and she stood at about 5’8″ or 5’9″. She looked tall, self-confident, and graceful.

“I take it that the naked woman you’re handcuffing is my slave-girl for the evening?” she asked as she scanned my naked body from the tip of my toes to the top of my head and back down again.

“Janet, this is Gwen,” Sharon said as she gestured with her hands, “Gwen, Janet.”

Then she stepped between us and said, “Gwen’s official title is emotional support companion.”

“Emotional support companion?” the svelte woman asked, “What kind of job title is that?

“It’s a job title that allows her to do all manner of libidinous things without being charged with prostitution,” Sharon countered.

“Well, it sounds stupid,” Janet countered and Sharon rolled her eyes in response.

“Janet, dear, this is a party,” Sharon said firmly, “Now, stop being grumpy, go to the bar, order a long island iced tea and put it on my tab. In a few minutes, I’ll bring out your naked companion and you can do naughty things to her while our friends watch.”

Janet marched out of the room and Sharon closed the door. Once Sharon and I were alone, she turned to me and said, “The wedding is making her a little bit crazy. Give her a few minutes to get some alcohol into her system and she’ll calm down.”

I opened my mouth to ask a question, but suddenly Sharon’s mouth was on mine and she was kissing me deeply. She thrust her tongue between my lips and within moments her tongue was dancing against mine, making it impossible to talk.

“Mmmmm,” I moaned into her mouth and struggled against the handcuffs while we kissed. When she finally broke from the long, passionate kiss, we were both panting.

“I need to have you in the proper frame of mind before I send you out to the party,” Sharon explained and then Sharon leaned in and kissed each of my defenseless nipples before biting each of them, causing me to yelp in surprise.

Sharon looked up from my abused nipples and gave me a mischievous look.

“Haven’t you ever had your nipples bitten before?” she asked as she fondled my breasts.

My hands were helplessly bound behind my back. There was little I could do to protect my nipples, and I found myself not really wanting protection. My pussy throbbed at the idea of having my nipples abused by Sharon while being utterly helpless and I said, “You may as well bite them again. I’m naked and handcuffed. There’s nothing I can do to stop you.”

“Later tonight I have to hand you over to Janet, but right now you belong to me,” Sharon declared and then she violated my nipples again. She bit them again, a bit harder this time and then sucked on them, first the left, then the right and then back again. I panted and squirmed as I felt her tongue lavishing attention on my sensitive nipples as they became extraordinarily rigid and swollen.

When Sharon’s work was done, I looked down at my own breasts. My nipples were red and erect. They were still wet from Sharon’s mischievous mouth, and I sighed as the soft, wet pulse of my sex throbbed and it felt as if my clitoris were as hard and swollen as my nipples.

I desperately hoped that someone at the bachelorette party would bring me to orgasm, but in my experience, dominant women prefer to see naked slave-girls like me squirm and suffer in sexual frustration rather than supply us with orgasms.

By the time I was escorted out of the office, my nipples were remarkably erect, and my pussy was so wet it was dripping like a leaky faucet. People in the club seemed to notice and they stared at me with expressions of amusement or surprise.

Sharon and I joined the throng of women who had been invited to the bachelorette party. Despite the looks on their faces, the guests were all very friendly towards me. A few of them hugged me or copped a feel, but none of them went any further than that. I was officially there for Janet and nobody wanted to act like I was their property when I had been promised to their friend.

Most of the women at the party were women Janet knew from work, police detectives with the Lago County Police Department or other women in local law enforcement. All of Janet’s friends worked in law enforcement in one way or another.

One of her friends was a Latina detective named Niqqi, or at least that’s what her friends called her. I was instructed to address her as “Mistress.”

Sharon kept insisted that I was an emotional support companion, but her friends kept referring to me as a “slave” or a “naked slave-girl” and eventually Sharon just gave up correcting people and let them call me whatever they liked.

At one point in the evening I escort kadıköy was approached by a African-American woman. She placed a hand on my arm, looked me up and down and declared, “How times have changed. Now, I can fondle a white slave-girl.”

I nodded my head in agreement and then Sharon urged her to feel me up. She smiled at that and took hold of one of my breasts, feeling the firmness of my young body and the softness of my smooth skin. Then she placed a hand between my thighs and touched my sex.

“Dear God,” the black woman exclaimed, “She is so wet down there!”

The African-American woman’s named was Yaya (I swear I am not making that up) and she became fascinated with my pussy. She rubbed her fingers up and down my swollen labia and then thrust two fingers inside of me. I whimpered and squirmed as she fingered me and then Sharon admonished me not to wriggle so much.

“Hold still and open your legs wide,” Sharon snapped at me, “Yaya is a police detective. If a detective needs to inspect the inside of your vagina, you need to spread your legs and be cooperative.”

I whimpered helplessly but obeyed. Yaya found my G-spot and her fingertips pumped it, making me gasp with sexual need.

There was something undeniably erotic about a white woman being stripped naked, handcuffed, made helpless and then handed over to a black woman to be abused and subjugated. I panted and felt my vagina spasm around her fingers. I desperately wanted the female detective to keep fingering me until I reached orgasm, but she withdrew her fingers just a heartbeat or two before I exploded into ecstasy.

“Aahhhh,” I gasped as the fingers were pulled out of my sex and I felt cheated. I gave the brown-skinned detective a pleading look, but she had no sympathy for me.

“Sorry, slave-girl,” the woman said as she proceeded to pinch one of my nipples, “When you’re a slave, orgasms are a privilege, not a right.”

Other women standing in her orbit agreed with her sentiment and some of them proceeded to add to my sexual frustration by fondling my exposed breasts and buttocks. Some of the women played with my hard, sensitive nipples, pressing ice cubes against them, pulling on them or brushing their thumbs across them. Some of them caressed my thighs, ass cheeks and my lower abdomen, coming within a millimeter of touching my throbbing pussy without touching it. I moaned in frustration and even spread my legs in an open invitation, but none of the women took the hint.

Eventually, I was turned over to Janet and she was much more cheerful by the time I landed in her custody.

“Sharon was right,” Janet said as she wrapped an arm around me and led me over to the bar, “I needed to get a couple drinks inside of me. I’m in party-mode now.”

Once Janet was seated on a bar stool, she took a few minutes to examine my vulnerable body. She liked what she saw and would occasionally offer up a comment as her hands stroked my ribcage, my bare breasts, my hard nipples, my abdomen, and my obliques.

There were about two-dozen women in the bar who couldn’t take their eyes off my exposed, vulnerable body and when Janet realized, she said, “Oh, right. We’re the center of attention.”

Then she flashed me a wicked grin and said, “We should give them something spectacular to watch, don’t you think?”

I was uncertain what Janet meant by something spectacular, but I dutifully agreed and gave her a timid nod.

“Okay, this is going to get rough, but you can handle that, right?” Janet asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” I responded, “Slaves are accustomed to all sorts of harsh treatment.”

Janet was extremely pleased with my answer and she rewarded me with a long, passionate kiss. Her mouth was placed over mine and she slid her tongue into my mouth. My tongue met hers and we both moaned. My hands were bound behind my back, so I couldn’t hold her, but she wrapped her arms around me as we kissed, running her hands up and down my torso until her right hand grabbed at my bare buttocks.

“You have an incredibly firm butt,” Janet said when she broke from the kiss, “Firm muscle wrapped in smooth, soft, touchable skin. I love it.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” I said, and I gave her an appreciate look.

“Every time you call me ‘Mistress’ my whole body gets an erotic tingle,” Janet confided, “Believe it or not, my panties are soaking wet right now.”

I raised both eyebrows up at her and replied, “I must be doing my job then. I’m supposed to give dominant women a potent, sexual thrill.”

That comment earned me another kiss and then she wrapped an arm around my waist and called out to the crowd, “I would like to thank everybody who pitched in and donated money so I could enjoy playing with this naked slave tonight!”

A general cheer went up from the crowd. People were drunk and in good spirits and Janet was their friend. They’d probably cheer just about anything she said at this point.

“Her name is Gwen. She’s very naked and very helpless and she’s mine,” Janet called bostancı escort out to her friends.

There was another joyous cheer from the crowd and then Janet continued.

“She has the most adorable butt, even more adorable than Anna’s! And you know how I usually show my appreciation for lovable derrieres, right?”

Janet’s friends cheered even louder this time. There was some sort of inside joke that all of Janet’s friends got, but I didn’t understand. At least not at first. Then, Janet sat down and explained it to me.

“I have a reputation for spanking ladies with great asses, and yours is the best I’ve ever seen. That means everyone here will be expecting you to go over me lap, so I can turn your ass red.”

“She did it to Anna,” Sharon added, suddenly standing at my side, “It’s only fair that she get to do it to you.”

I had no idea who Anna was, but I soon found myself over Janet’s knee, while everyone in the club gathered around to watch my humiliation. She put one leg over my right leg to hold me down. Her left hand took hold of my bound wrists and lifted my arms away from my back. That left my ass vulnerable and exposed for anything her right hand might want to do.

“Look directly at the crowd,” Sharon said as I hung naked and helpless over Janet’s lap, “I want them to be able to see your face when you react to the pain.”

It seemed as if Sharon had put some thought into this. She even worked my hair into a ponytail so my hair wouldn’t get into my face during the spanking. There was a theatrical quality to this spanking, making it more like performance art than a cruel punishment, although the pain and the cruelty came soon enough.

The first spank stung far worse than I was expecting. I squealed from the very first swat, which met with the approval of the women in the crowd. They urged Janet to spank me some more and make me cry out even louder.

The sound of Janet’s hand smacking my bare bottom resonated throughout the club and I squirmed as she covered my bottom evenly all over, taking her time and placing her blows where she wanted them, and when my entire bottom was red and stinging, she proceeded to spank the backs of my thighs as well.

I wiggled, squirmed, and reflexively tried to get my hands down to cover my bottom. But Janet’s hand easily held my wrists that were bound with stainless-steel, and her leg over mine kept me from doing much beyond wiggling my bottom. The women in the crowd seemed to enjoy watching me wiggle and squirm, and the more I suffered, the more they voiced their approval.

After my bottom was stinging and even the backs of my thighs were sore, Janet allowed me to get up off her lap. A few of Janet’s closer friends were invited to come closer and examine my abused ass more closely. They marveled at the color and I flinched every time one of them touched my wounded backside.

“She’s so sensitive,” one of them commented, “I bet she can’t sit down for days!”

I was told to lift my hands up to the small of my back so people could have an unobstructed view of my ass. For a while it was the center of attention at the club. Every woman wanted a closer look and some of them even copped a feel or took photos.

The party went on for hours and my naked body was caressed, examined, fingered, fondled, pinched, photographed, and squeezed. And, at some point, Janet led me back to the manager’s office, locked the office door, took off her slacks, pulled down her panties and ordered me to get down on my knees.

Janet was in her late twenties or early thirties, but she had the sexual stamina of a teenager. I lapped at her pussy until I brought her to a vigorous orgasm and a few seconds later she told me to go at it again. I lost track of how many orgasms I gave her.

* * *

That bachelorette party was a great way to advertise Noel’s new business and several of the guests at that party soon became clients. The party where I entertained friends of Jenna London had also gained us new clients. For a new business we were remarkably successful. We hit the ground running and gained a growing base of loyal clients almost immediately.

I was so popular that I ended up working twenty-two days in a row to keep up with the demand. When I finally had some time off, I spent a couple of days with Lyndsay.

Lyndsay is my girlfriend and she’s earned a reputation for being mischievous. She was extra nice to me when I started spending time with her, which made me suspicious. Lyndsay is constantly looking for ways to embarrass me, getting me to expose my naked body in public or in front of the wrong sort of people. But when I got a few days off from work, Lyndsay was well behaved and didn’t try anything like that.

Lyndsay planned for the two of us to go visit my mom for coffee and idle chitchat. It seemed innocent enough, but Lyndsay wasn’t the innocent type. I suspected something was up.

I kinda forgot to be suspicious of Lyndsay after we arrived at my mom’s house. Much to my surprise, my cousin Dawn from New Jersey was visiting. I hadn’t seen her in about five years. And in the years that we’d been apart, she’d gone from being an awkward, shy, skinny teenager to being a self-confident woman with a shapely, athletic body. I barely recognized her when I saw her.



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