Naked and barefoot, I made my way across the kitchen until I encountered the coffee machine. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and I desperately need caffeine.

I began to work the controls on the coffee maker, and I heard the sound of footsteps as somebody else entered the kitchen.

"Good Morning, Blonde Girl," I heard Dasha say and she walked towards me. Dasha knows that my name is Gwen, but she insists on calling me Blonde Girl. I've never understood that.

"Good Morning, Dasha," I replied while I hovered over the coffee maker. The familiar sounds of coffee being made emanated from the machine.

"You are here alone?" Dasha asked, "Normally your girlfriend comes down to the kitchen with you."

"She's still in bed," I explained, "She didn't get much sleep last night and she's exhausted. We were doing amorous things all night long."

"You make her scream in orgasmic bliss?" Dasha asked as she ran her hand down my back, rested it on my ass and squeezed my left buttock. "This is very sturdy, solid house. I cannot hear screams of teenage females through the walls."

Dasha's fingertips on my skin caused me to feel a wave of tingly sensations. Dasha was a live-in maid and wasn't prone to fondling me. She tended to follow orders and not initiate sexual advances upon anyone in the house. This morning however, she seemed to be extremely forward and sexual. She ran her hands all over the curves of my buttocks and my upper thighs. She even worked her fingers into that thigh furrow between my firm buttocks. I had always assumed that Dasha was heterosexual, but suddenly her hands were touching me all over, fondling me like an overexcited lesbian teenager.

"Yes," I replied as Dasha continued to run her hand up and down the curves of my ass, "I made her scream in orgasmic bliss."

"That is good," the maid said softly as she pressed her body against my back and ass, reached around my torso and ran her hands over my breasts, "Lyndsay is sweet girl. She deserves to have attentive lover."

My eyes sort of glazed over as Dasha played with my naked body. She played with my nipples, rolling them between her thumbs and index fingers. I was unable to suppress a moan as my nipples swelled, became hard and erect.

"Oh God, that feels so good," I said in between gasping.

"You are liking this?" Dasha whispered in my ear as she gradually applied more pressure to my sensitive nipples.

"Oh, yes," I replied, my voice little more than a feminine moan. My legs felt wobbly and I placed my hands on the kitchen counter to support myself.

"Every day I am seeing you display your naked body in this house," Dasha whispered into my ear, "It drives me crazy that I cannot touch it."

My breasts heaved as I gasped once again. Her fingers were doing amazing things to my nipples and another wave of libidinous desire passed through me and I felt a soft, wet pulse in my sex.

"You can touch me anytime you feel like it," I whispered back, "I thought Ms. Knauss made that clear. You can use me for sex whenever. You don't even have to ask me for permission. I'm not allowed to refuse. I'm a sex slave."

"That is what rules say," Dasha agreed, "but Lyndsay is loving you very much. If I play with your naked body while she watches, it may become awkward. I do not want to make things awkward, so I wait until she is not around."

Dasha stopped playing with my nipples, cupped my breasts, lifting them up, pressing them together and I said, "Lyndsay loans me out to other women all the time. She likes it when I have sex with other women. My current job requires that I have sex with women for money, and Lyndsay was the one who suggested that I take that job!"

"Yes," Dasha said as she wrapped both arms around my waist and held me intimately close to her, "but they are all strangers, women Lyndsay has never met. I have known Lyndsay since she was infant. I have helped take care of her. I am almost like second mother. It would be awkward for us to share a lover."

"But, you're sexually attracted to me," I said.

"Yes, it is frustrating situation for me," Dasha admitted, "You are very beautiful, but you are forbidden fruit."

There was an uncomfortable silence and when the coffee was finished brewing, Dasha asked me to pour her a cup. Then we sat down at the dining room table and talked.

I'd known Dasha for months, but we'd never really talked before. She'd always sort of been in the background of the Brie household without being visibly involved.

Despite the fact that Dasha looked to be about my age, she was actually eighteen years older than me. Damn, she had good genetics. She had a lithe, athletic build, high cheekbones, and flawless skin. Dasha claimed that her good health and youthful appearance was due to her Russian ancestors who needed to be strong and vigorous to survive savage, unforgiving Russian winters.

"The only ones who survived were the fittest of the fit," she claimed, "When my grandmother was eighty, she could still arm wrestle men and beat them. She could also drink them under the table. I come from very hearty people."

So, Dasha had worked for the Brie family for approximately twenty years and had known Mrs. Brie when she was pregnant with Lyndsay. She'd seen Lyndsay grow from a baby, to a toddler, to a schoolgirl to a teenager and finally to a young woman.

So, as much as Dasha was sexually attracted to me, she felt it would be inappropriate for her to have sex with Lyndsay's lover.

I felt kind of bad for Dasha, but I understood her point of view.

And while Dasha wasn't willing to have sex with me, there were other women out there who were willing to pay exorbitant amounts of money for the pleasure of doing all sorts of naughty things to my naked body.

Case in point, Megan Keefer. Back when I was a high school student, she was our school principal. Ms. Keefer is still a high school principal, however, she's now flush with enough disposable income that she can afford to hire naked girls who are willing to be tied up, sexually abused and painfully punished.

Ms. Keefer didn't have any hang ups about having sex with me. You'd think that the fact that she had known me when I was an innocent schoolgirl, a young mind being educated and nurtured, would give her pause, but she didn't think that way. She just saw me as a desirable female with enticing curves and a willingness to submit.

I'm not even sure how Ms. Keefer learned that I was working as an emotional support companion, but once she found out, she wanted to hire me.

I never said it out loud, but I felt that Ms. Keefer having sex with me was inappropriate. It felt like a teacher having sex with one of her students. Of course, for me, the forbidden nature of sex with my high school principal just made the whole thing seem naughty and added an extra thrill. I was looking forward to being sexually violated by my high school principal.

I know. It's abnormal to get excited about this sort of thing, but I think we've already established that I'm not normal.

Rather than have me meet at her home (like most of my clients), Ms. Keefer had me meet her at the high school where she works. All of the teachers, cafeteria workers, janitors and other employees had gone home for the day, so we had the entire building to ourselves.

I'd never seen my old high school so empty or so quiet before.

"Being the principal does have its advantages," Ms. Keefer confided as she walked me down the halls to her office, "I can use this building sometimes for my own projects and events, and I don't have to ask anyone for permission."

To me, it seemed a tad unethical, but I didn't say anything. As long as she didn't damage the building in any way and she didn't get caught, I wasn't going to lose any sleep over it. Also, I was getting paid to play sex games. When you're getting paid, it makes it easier to overlook stuff that might be a tad unethical.

When we got to her office, Ms. Keefer turned on the lights and she directed my attention to a cheerleader uniform that had been laid out. The uniform was white and royal blue, the same colors that the cheerleaders of Fairhaven High School wore.

"I want you to put that on," Ms. Keefer said to me, "I have a theme in mind for our sexual games and the cheerleader uniform is part of it."

I gave her a dubious look, but I proceeded to undress and change into the clothes that had been laid out for me. In addition to the skirt and top, Ms. Keefer had also supplied me with socks, sneakers, a bra, and panties to match the color scheme. I was surprised when I discovered that all the clothes that Ms. Keefer had supplied fit me perfectly. How did she know my sizes?

"You look delicious in that outfit, dear," Ms. Keefer said as she favored me with an approving smile, "You would have made an adorable cheerleader. It's a shame you never applied for the cheerleading squad."

"I wasn't really very social back in high school," I replied. I mostly just showed up for classes, did the minimum to get the approval of my teachers and my classmates and went home at the end of the day. I never even considered doing extracurricular activities.

"Well, you'll be social tonight," Ms. Keefer assured me.

It turned out that Ms. Keefer had invited some of her friends to join us for the night's festivities. Within minutes they arrived. I was shocked to see that they were girls that I had gone to high school with.

"Paige?" I said as the first one approached me and gave me a hug.

"Gwen," Paige Rixon said warmly as she held me close and kissed me on the cheek. "Ms. Keefer said that you agreed to show up for our party, but I didn't really believe her until just now."

"Well, I'm here," I said as I was lovingly and thoroughly embraced.

Paige had arrived with her friend Alex Harshman. Both were wearing cheerleading uniforms. Neither of them had been on the cheerleading squad when they were in high school, so I was failing to understand where the whole cheerleader fantasy was coming from.

I took a few minutes to take in how beautiful Alex looked. Back in high school she was a skinny, flat-chested girl with a boyish haircut and horrible taste in clothes. Now she had feminine curves, long, silky hair and long, shapely legs that were on display now that she was wearing a short, stylish skirt.

"Our last playmate got all scared and ran off," Alex commented, "I hope you're gonna be braver than she was."

The "party" hadn't even started yet, and no one had told me the protocol for this party, but it already seemed somewhat bizarre to me. I mean, how often does a high school principal invite three girls who had once been students at her high school to return to the school and dress up like cheerleaders?

This was just going to get weirder. I could feel it in my bones.

Rather than go back to Principal Keefer's office, I was taken downstairs to the boiler room. Down there, it was dark, shadowy, and creepy looking. As I was led through the poorly lit gloom, every shadow seemed to move as if preparing to pounce on me. One of the walls was all exposed brick, another wall was dominated by a row of ancient water heaters and copper pipes. The entire room seemed like something from a Wes Craven horror movie.

"Carli was a beautiful girl," Ms. Keefer said, "but she wasn't very sexually adventurous."

So saying, she led me over to a brick wall. While standing there, my wrists were bound with stainless-steel wrist shackles and a metal collar was locked around my throat. A chain leash was attached to my collar and then the other end of the chain was secured to a metal ring on the wall and locked there with another padlock.

"Carli was into bondage," Paige explained, "but she wasn't into discipline. She didn't deal well with pain. Principal Keefer told us you'd be different."

I was chained up in a dark room, wearing a very revealing cheerleading outfit and surrounded by women who were talking about hurting me. If I were the conventional sort, I would have been gripped with fear right then. Instead, I was overtaken by feelings of sexual excitement, my skin tingled all over, my heart pounded madly in my chest while my nipples hardened, and my sex throbbed.

"I have an extremely high pain tolerance," I explained, "I think you'll be impressed with how much I can take."

"Yes!" Alex screamed and both Alex and Paige thrust their fists into the air as some sort of victory gesture.

Then Alex produced a pair of EMT trauma shears and explained she was going to cut me out of my clothes.

"Stripping is one thing," Alex informed me, "but cutting you out of your clothes, forcing you to be naked against your will, that's more fun."

My cheerleader uniform was cute, but I couldn't have stopped Alex from cutting it off me even if I tried. The way that I was bound prevented me from doing much. Alex sliced away the material of my cheerleading top, cutting through the fabric with ease. The whole front of the ruined top began to fall away from my torso, and Paige completed the job by grabbing the tatters of my garment and tugging them away, leaving me naked from the waist up, except for the bra which hugged my ample breasts.

Next, the trauma shears cut through the fabric of my skirt, and when my skirt was destroyed, it was pulled from my hips and tossed unceremoniously onto the floor.

My shoes and socks came off easily, there was no need to cut through those. They were tossed on the floor, next to my shredded skirt and top and then, Paige said, "We should just leave her clothes there on the floor. Imagine what people will say when they find her clothes down here."

"The janitor is pretty much the only person who ever comes down here," Principal Keefer explained, "Although I imagine it will make quite an impression if he finds Gwen's clothing lying on the floor."

Alex then proceeded to cut through the straps of the bra. Then she tossed it aside, exposing my firm, rounded breasts and my pink, erect nipples. I was chained up in a dark, dungeon-like room and almost naked. I panted as Alex and Paige both grabbed at the waistband of my tiny panties and tugged them down.

When my panties had been pulled down to my ankles, I was ordered to step out of them. Then my panties got tossed onto the floor next to the tattered remnants of my bra.

I panted and felt a helpless, yet erotic sense of humiliation. There I was naked, exposed and on display in front of my high school principal and two of the girls I'd gone to high school with. I squirmed and twisted helplessly in my chains and watched my captors with wide, excited eyes, eager to see how they would humiliate and abuse me.

Paige turned to Principal Keefer and commented, "She's even more beautiful than you said."

Soft gentle hands caressed the softness of my thighs and naked buttocks. I felt loving fingertips as they touched me all over, tracing the contours of my naked body, sampling the silky softness of my skin and the firmness of my muscles.

"She's adorable," Alex confirmed as her hands explored my naked body, "What should we do with her first?"

Alex and Paige came to a consensus and decided that my perfectly shaped buttocks needed some color. Alex then proceeded to hold up a leather paddle. She seemed to produce it out of thin air. Of course, it was dark and shadowy in the boiler room. It wouldn't have been difficult to conceal a black, leather paddle in a gloomy room like that with all the dark corners and shadows.

"According to Carli, this thing stings like sitting on a hot stove. I guess we're about to put your claims to the test about having a high pain tolerance."

There was a loud crack as the leather paddle struck my naked ass. It stung. I reflexively twisted my naked body around and inarticulately yelped in pain.

"That was just the first blow," Alex said admonishingly, "Are you going to make that noise every time I swat your ass?"

My naked buttocks were extremely vulnerable, and Alex spanked them with her cruel paddle again and again. I hissed through my teeth and tried to stifle my screams, but it hurt too much. Every crack of leather across my bare flesh left a fresh scalding sensation and it didn't take long before I was crying out in pain.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Aaaaaaghhhhhhhh," I cried out in helpless agony. Alex was relentless, she turned my poor bottom into a riot of stinging, red-hot agony.

Alex brought the paddle down sharply across my lower buttocks where they met my thighs. I howled in pain and writhed my hips in a shameless manner and stamped my feet as Alex mercilessly reddened my backside.

"Ooooowwwwwww!! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ohhhhh!" I screamed inarticulately and yanked against my chains. Alex wielded her leather paddle with sadistic skill, causing me to flinch with every blow. At some point, she paused for a few seconds to let me catch my breath, but then she informed me that she was nowhere near finished.

"You look so fetching when you twist and squirm," Alex explained, "You look far more adorable when you're dancing around in pain. I need to see some more of that."

Alex switched paddles. The new paddle was much more flexible and wrapped around the curves of my buttocks instead of flattening my ass. This new paddle stung more than the first one and I writhed uncontrollably with each painful stroke and then let out a feminine squeal of pain.

"That's it," Alex said with enthusiasm, "That's the sound I like to hear!"

She continued to paddle my poor bottom and I continued to fill the dark, shadowy boiler room with my girlish shrieks of agony. At some point, Alex gave me another short break and I stood there naked, panting, sweating and exhausted. My bottom and thighs were red and stinging from the corporal punishment the cruel, young woman had inflicted on my naked skin, but of course, she wasn't finished.

"So, little cheerleader, how's your bottom?" she asked playfully.

"It feels like it's on fire," I said honestly, "I'm sure it's all red at this point. Please, couldn't you punish a different part of my body? My bottom has taken about all it can take."

My face was wet with tears and I looked over my shoulder and gave her an imploring look. I was naked, helpless, and chained to the wall. I gave Alex the most pleading look I knew and in response she caressed my sore bottom and thighs with her hand. My poor abused backside was so sore that even a gentle touch was agony, but I bit my lower lip and tried not to cry out as she fondled my tender buttocks.

"Very well," Alex finally conceded, "I'll punish a different part of your anatomy. Spread your legs."

Alex reached into a gym bag and pulled out a long, thin whip that looked as if it could inflict a great deal of pain upon a naked girl. I gasped as I realized what Alex intended. She was going to whip the inside of my thighs.

I whimpered and reluctantly stood with my legs apart, leaving the delicate folds of my pussy exposed and vulnerable. I involuntarily trembled as I anticipated the sting of Alex's whip across my sensitive pubic lips.

"You're the one who told us you had a high pain tolerance, remember?" Alex asked as she stood back and played with her whip.

Before the whipping could begin, Paige stepped between Alex and me and placed a hand between my widespread thighs.

"If we're going to whip her bald pubes, we should make sure she's good and wet first," Paige insisted, and Alex stood back while talented fingers stroked my pink slit before working my swollen labia apart. A strong, insistent finger was inserted, and it explored deeply. I gasped when Paige impaled my sex on her finger, and I moved my hips in a shameless, pornographic manner as the finger discovered my most responsive nerve endings.

My legs felt all wobbly as my pussy was played with. Then Paige pulled her finger out and impaled my vagina on two fingers instead of one. My sex throbbed and powerful waves of desire passed through my naked body. I was soaking wet as Paige's talented fingers worked my g-spot and I moaned with wanton, sexual need.