The Misadventures of Gwen

The Misadventures of Gwen

Chapter 9

Note: This story is total fantasy. It does not reflect real-life situations involving real people.  Furthermore, my own personal opinion is that all sexual interaction between individuals (in real life) should take place on an entirely consensual basis.  And now with that said on with the story…..

A week has passed and I am almost fully recovered.  During the past week I am closely supervised by my chambermaids, and often teased and taunted by them.  My pussy and anus are off limits so that they might fully heal.  The only attention they receive are the healing ointments that are applied.  

The negative affect of all this is that I am highly aroused.  My clit is very sensitive and constantly throbs it is so hard.  It has been a whole week since I have been allowed to cum.

In the evening particular attention is paid to how I am dressed since the Marquis will soon be here.  Tonight I am dressed in black leather.  The leather of my over the knee boots feels so good against my thighs. 

When the Marquis enters, I stand and assume the proper standing position – feet apart, hands locked behind my head, and my breasts thrust forward.

He walks over to me and looks me up and down.  “Well, Gwen, I hope this past week has been a relaxing one for you.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply.

He squeezes my left nipple while whispering in my ear, “This morning your car went over a ravine and down an embankment on Route 374 just outside of your hometown.  The car was destroyed by fire. The driver’s body was burned beyond recognition, however, dental records show conclusively that the driver of that vehicle was you, Gwendolyn Donohue.”

What is he saying?  My car went over a ravine.

“You see, Gwen, in the eyes of the world you are dead.  There truly is no turning back, now.”   

I listen to the Marquis in disbelief.  Anyone I ever loved or knew now thinks that I am dead.  This truly gives him free reign to do to me what he pleases with no repercussions of any kind.  Oh my God, what have I done?  I know that I will revel in any bizarre thing he does to me no matter how much it may initially disgust me, but to do it knowing there are no consequences to him at all!   Panic invades my thoughts.  Will I be able to survive?  What new and bizarre adventures are in store for me?  How much more can my poor body take?

He then sucks on my nipple drinking the sweet nectar.  I feel a twinge in my private parts.  My clit is tingling as I get aroused.

“One thing that I need to take care of immediately is the issue of body hair.”

“All my body hair has been removed, sir,” I say.

“Not all, dear Gwen,” he replies.

I look at him confused.  I have no more body hair.  His depilating cream took care of that.  It’s all gone.

“I don’t understand,” I say questioningly.

He becomes irritated as he says, “You don’t need to understand.”  He viciously twists my left nipple.  I cry out in pain.

“Get on your knees.  Spread you legs.  I want your cunt fully exposed, and lock your hands behind your head. 

“Monique, bring me my riding crop.”

I do as commanded totally vulnerable to the Marquis.  My tits jut out begging for attention as they sway on my chest now filled with sweet nectar.  He smacks the side of my right tit with his crop.  He then smacks the side of my left tit. I wince in pain. They sway to and fro with milk seeping out of my aroused nipples. He gets great satisfaction out of my discomfort.

“Monique, bring that floor length mirror here so that the slut can see,” he commands.

Monique rolls the mirror over and places it in front of me.

The Marquis stands behind me, bends down, and places his mouth close to my ear.

“Look in the mirror, Gwen.”

I look in the mirror at myself with fear in my eyes.

“Do you see any hair?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“My head.”

“Yes, very good.  There’s hair on your head. He taps my head with his riding crop. What do you think we should do about that hair?” He runs his fingers through my hair.

I don’t want to do anything with my hair.  I love my hair.  I have hair to die for. My long golden tresses have always been a source of pride for me.

“I don’t know,” I stammer.

“You don’t know?”  He reaches around and smacks the side of my right tit with his crop and then does the same to the side of my left tit in quick succession.  “Wrong answer!”

Oh my God, he can’t seriously be thinking of cutting my hair off.  I would look like a freak – a large - titted bald bimbo.  My heart is racing.  Removing my pubic hair is one thing, but to remove my beautiful golden tresses would be devastating.  I would look so bizarre.  I would look like something on the Sci Fi channel.

“Gwen, do I like hair?” he whispers in my ear as he reaches around and strokes my clit with the crop. 

No, sir, you don’t,” I reply.

“Right,” he says as he continues to stroke my clit.  I’m getting aroused.  “What do we do with hair I don’t like?” he taunts.  He moves the crop down separating my pussy lips and probing my hole.

I know what he wants me to say.  Why doesn’t he just do it?  Why must I say it?  I know I have no choice.  I’m going to lose my beautiful hair forever.  He wants to turn me into a freak.  He wants to humiliate and debase me in every way possible, and there’s nothing I can do about it. 

I’m aroused.  My cunt is on fire.  I can’t think straight.  He’s waiting for an answer as he strokes my fire.  I must answer, and there is only one answer.

“We get rid of it.”

“Right!  So, is there something you want to ask me to do for you?” he whispers in my ear as he continues to stroke my clit and tongue my ear.

No! No!  He’s going to make me ask him to do the one thing I would never think of doing to myself - the cruelty of it all.  I have no choice.  I made the decision to stay.  I had my chance to leave this madness, and I didn’t.  I have only myself to blame. 

“Sir, please cut my hair,” I force myself to say.

“Are you sure, Gwen?  Is this what you really want?” he chides me.

Of course, I don’t want this.  I love my golden tresses.  You and your games; you are forcing me to beg for that which I don’t want.

“Yes, sir,” I whimper.

“Very well.  Monique, bring over the cart!” he says as he rises, standing behind me.

“You’ve made a very wise decision, my dear,” he chuckles as he combs my hair together as if to make a pony tail.

Emotionally I’m a wreck.  I’m very highly aroused, and at the same time so scared at what he’s about to do.

Holding my hair gathered together at the top of my head, he picks up the scissors and places it at the base of the gathered hair.  One snip and my long tresses are gone.

“Watch, Gwen, as I rid you of your hair.  Watch me transform you into a new woman,” he says as he cuts off my golden tresses.

They’re gone!  He holds my hair in his left hand which he now deposits in a wastebasket.  All that remains are short pieces of hair all over my head.  He now picks up electric clippers and proceeds to shear off the remaining hair.

Next my head is dampened with a warm wet cloth and shaving cream is applied.  The Marquis stands in front of me, making sure not to block the mirror. 

“Watch, Gwen,” he says as he turns my head back towards the mirror with the riding crop. “I want you to watch.” 

Monique takes the straight razor and proceeds to shave my head bald.  Tears escape down my cheek as I stare in the mirror looking at the bizarre proceedings.  Oh my God, what is happening to me. 

The count removes his slacks and underwear. He stands before me.  “Don’t you think you should express your gratitude to me for fulfilling your wishes?”

I take his huge dick in my mouth, and he rams it down my throat in one thrust.  He holds it deep in my throat while Monique finishes shaving my head.  I continue to cry silently.  I can’t breathe.  He’s cutting off my air supply.  I try to push off – to get some air, but I can’t. His grip is too strong. 

“Ah, Gwen, what a commotion you are going to cause at our next gathering,  You know, if you had not asked me to rid you of your hair, I wouldn’t have done it,” he chuckles as he releases my head and allows me to get some air.

He then applies the debilitating cream to my head.

I cry for it is too late.  The cream is already destroying my hair follicles. Hair will never grow on my head again.  I have reached another point of no return.  The Marquis satisfied with himself continues to fuck my mouth with abandon. 

“Claire, bring over the milking machine.  Our little slut is way past due.”

There is a flurry of activity around me as Monique cleans up from my hair debauchery, and Claire brings over the milking machine.  Claire reaches down and squeezes and kneads my nipples making them hard. The fire in my cunt is burning out of control.  Once more I feel a need to cum.  The cups are placed over my areolas and the machine springs to life sucking the sweet nectar from my tits.

God that feels good.  There’s something arousing about having your tits milked.  My pussy is overheating.  If only I could reach down there and satisfy my craving.  No one seems to be watching.  The Marquis has left the room, and Claire is busy adjusting the pressure on the milking machine.  I slowly take my right hand off my head and slide it down toward my clit.  God that feels good.  I rub and pinch my clit sending chills up my spine.

SMACK!  Claire slaps me across the face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?  Haven’t you been told to never touch yourself?  Answer me,” she demands as she slaps me again.

“I’m sorry,” I sob.

Claire slaps me again.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry, madam,” I quickly respond in frustration.

“That’s better, you big-titted bimbo.”  She then removes the suction cups from my tits and takes the machine away.

“I’ll be back to deal with you in a minute.  Don’t you dare even think about moving your hands from your head, you pathetic piece of shit.”

Claire’s a monster.  What did I do that was so wrong?   Life is not going to be easy with her around.  Life isn’t going to be easy anyway.  It really doesn’t matter.

Claire returns and orders me to stand up.

“Spread your legs wide,” she says as she kicks me feet wider apart.  She then takes a four inch leather belt and puts it on me.  She secures my wrists to the two cuffs located on the side of the belt. 

“That should keep your hands out of trouble,” she says as she rubs my cunt.  She nuzzles up close to be and runs her hands all over my body feeling my tits, caressing my ass, and penetrating my vagina with two fingers.  I’m overheating and begin to rotate my hips.

“Is that better, baby,” she whispers in my ear as she probes my pussy looking for my G-Spot.  “Do you need to cum?”

I’m on fire. God, this is wonderful.  She’s found my G-Spot, and I’m going crazy.  I’m so close.

“Are you close?” she asks whispering in my ear.

“Oh, yes” I say as she probes my ear with her tongue.

“How close, love?” she asks as her left hand leaves my pussy and travels slowly up to my breast.

“Real close, madam,” I coo.

She backs off and punches me in the stomach.  She then grabs me by the nipples and twists them viciously.

I scream out in pain.

“That’s too bad.  The Marquis says you can’t cum,” she sneers as I break down and cry in frustration.

At that point the Marquis enters the room.

“Is something the matter here?”

“No, sir, I’m just finishing up with her milking,” says Claire respectfully to the count.

He looks at me and then at Claire who busies herself cleaning up.

What can I say?  If I tell him what Claire did, she’ll just take it out on me later.  I sob and say nothing.

“I want her prepared for bed.  Call Monique and Evelyn and tell them to be quick about it.”

Monique and Evelyn prepare me for bed.  I’m allowed to take a bath and soak.  While I’m bathing I can overhear them talking about my bald head.  I can’t make out exactly what they’re saying, but every once in a while they look over at me while they’re talking.  I feel so self-conscious.  The reality of the whole situation is just beginning to sink in.  I will never have long beautiful hair again.  Never!  I am filled with sorrow.

After my bath, I am strapped down in bed and made immobile.  By this time I probably don’t have to tell you that I am restrained and have very limited movement.  Debilitating cream is again applied to my head for extra measure, although I don’t know why they bother.  No hair has grown back on any other area of my body, and I’ve only had one treatment everywhere else.

The marquis returns to the room and approaches me.  This is unusual for him to be here this late in the evening.

“I’ve noticed that your nipples are fairly long, Gwen, but not long enough.  They are approximately an inch in length, and I want then to be at least one and a quarter inches long - actually the longer the better.  A longer nipple is much easier to suck on, and a few of my guests complained the other night.  So I have come up with a solution to the problem – an ingenious little invention.”

With that he produces two small wire mesh cones.  They are circular at the bottom with a circumference the size of my areolas.  They taper up to the size of my nipple.  Their height is a little over an inch and a quarter. They look kind of like a small ice cream cone.  The Marquis places one over my left nipple and pushes down into the meat of my tit which forces the nipple up into the tapered end.  When it is fully inserted, he takes a metal pin and inserts it through the mesh, and then through the piercing in my nipple, and out the other side. Clips similar to those found on pierced earrings hold the pin in place.  When the Marquis releases the cone, my nipple is stretched out a full inch and a quarter. He repeats the procedure on my other nipple.

“There, after a few weeks of wearing those at night, you’re nipples should be stretched out nicely.”

I am very much aware of my nipples.  They are extremely sensitive and these cones raise my awareness acutely.  The effect isn’t unpleasant, but adds to my sexual frustration which is becoming the norm except for those rare occasions when it serves the Marquis’s purposes to have me cum.

With that, I am left alone for the night.  I am left with my own disturbing thoughts, trying to make sense out of all that has happened to me this day.