Ms. Streng likes to play games.

Lately she’s been fond of playing that I’m her daughter and that she trots me out to her friends like she’s the proud mother and she wants to show me off.

Such was the case when she took me out to Noel Whitehouse’s home in Augustus Beach and had me show off my athletic abilities.

The way my “mother” explained it, it all sounded perfectly innocent opportunity to showcase my ability to do backflips, contortions and serial cartwheels, however, I knew Ms. Streng well enough to know that this event would turn into something naughty and smoldering Hot.

Ms. Streng invited some of her friends to come witness my displays of athleticism. Ms. Whitehouse invited some of her friends and my friend Elizabeth invited herself. All told, there were a dozen some there to witness whatever wickedness Ms. Streng had in mind.

Noel Whitehouse had an opulent home with a large exercise room with a series of gym mats laid out. I was led down there and shortly before my performance was to begin, Ms. Streng informed me that she purchased a leotard for me as a gift and she wanted me to wear it while I performed my feats of strength and dexterity.

I felt that the leotard was too small. It was cut very high on the hips and very low across the back. And when I began to perform, the material would chronically ride up my Ass. I was constantly pausing to pull the fabric out from between my butt cheeks and Ms. Streng and the other ladies noticed.

“Scarlett, you seem uncomfortable in your uniform,” Ms. Streng observed.

I was hesitant to complain. Something in my instincts told me that Ms. Streng was up to something, and I was worried about saying the wrong thing. This led to a long, uncomfortable silence as I was afraid to say anything.

“Well, the material keeps riding up,” I replied hesitantly. “It’s awkward and I have to keep pulling it out of the crack of my Ass.”

“Maybe she should just perform naked?” suggested one of Ms. Streng’s friends. At the time, I thought it was a joke, but Ms. Streng pounced on the idea.

“That would be splendid!” Ms. Streng enthused.

“Oh, God! No!” I protested. “I can’t perform naked!”

“Why not, dear?” Ms. Whitehouse asked. I couldn’t believe how serious she sounded.

“It’s indecent,” I replied loudly. “Exposing my naked body in front of a crowd of spectators…it would be humiliating!”

“Nonsense,” my “mother” replied. “You have an exquisite body. There’s no reason that you should feel embarrassed displaying your body for my friends.

I tried to talk Ms. Streng out of it, but she kept insisting that there was nothing indecent about exposing my naked body to a crowd of fully clothed spectators. She wore me down and eventually I took of my clingy leotard and performed my gymnastic feats in the nude.

I’d done these sorts of maneuvers flawlessly many times before, however, performing naked in front of an audience threw me off mentally. The embarrassment of my shaved pubes and my bottom being naked and on display for these sharp dressed, haughty women made it difficult for me to concentrate. I kept thinking about them ogling my young, naked body instead of focusing on my timing and my coordination. More than once I ended up falling flat on my Ass instead of landing gracefully like I normally do.

“Scarlett, you’re embarrassing me,” Ms. Streng admonished. “I’ve been chronically bragging to my friends about your grace and coordination, and you keep stumbling. You’re making a liar out of me.”

And then Noel Whitehouse spoke up and said, “I took ballet lessons in my youth. If any of the students were lazy or performed poorly, the choreographers would discipline us. It strongly motivated us to do better.”

“What sort of discipline?” Elizabeth asked.

“Corporal punishment, of course,” Ms. Whitehouse answered. “A painful enough spanking will make even the most irresponsible of students change their behavior.”

“This is so embarrassing,” I protested. “I’m eighteen years old. I’m too old to go over your knee for a spanking!”

“It’s for your own good, dear,” Ms. Streng replied calmly. “You’re a remarkable athlete, but even the most impressive of gymnasts can always improve their performance. Knowing that you can be punished in front of my friends for failure to improve will motivate you to do better.”

Outwardly I objected to being spanked by my mother. However, deep inside of me, there was a dark, libidinous excitement growing. I felt feverish and my Sex pulsed wetly even as I balked at my mother’s plans.

Two of mother’s friends grabbed me by my arms and escorted me over to my mother so they could throw me over her lap.

I struggled against them and complained that they were treating me unfairly, but I silently hoped that they would ignore my objections and that my mother would spank me mercilessly in front of her friends and leave my Ass red and stinging.

They kept a tight grip on my arms and Ms. Streng grabbed me around the waist and hips and pulling me into position, with the curves of my buttocks conveniently positioned where they would be most vulnerable.

“This is for your own good, Scarlett,” my mother assured me. “You need this.”

I was attempting to come up with a retort to her comment when I felt a stinging slap come down on my unprotected bottom.

The first slap made a surprisingly loud sound and hurt far more than I was expecting. At a casual glance, Ms. Streng didn’t look all that strong. She was a svelte woman with soft hands and unimpressive-looking biceps. She didn’t look like the sort that would be an expert at inflicting stinging pain and abusing innocent bottoms.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” I exclaimed as she assaulted my bare buttocks.

My legs kicked and my hips squirmed, however, my mother’s friends kept a tight grip on my arms and my mother kept one hand gripped around my waist, preventing me from sliding off her lap no matter how much I bounded and squirmed across her thighs.

I writhed, panted, and emitted yelps of pain while my mother’s friends watched. Being punished this way in front of an attentive audience made me feel even more naked and deliciously exposed than before.

My bottom was still throbbing with an intense, scalding pain when I was pulled off her lap and told to resume performing.

I took a few moments to wipe my tears away and get my sobbing under control and then I tried to concentrate on my gymnastics routine.

I took to the mats once again, and much to my shock, my performance improved after I’d been spanked. Who would have thought that having a red Ass would enhance my hand-eye coordination? Could it be that the bitter, stinging sensation across my poor bottom blotted out my feelings of embarrassment and allowed me to focus better on my gymnastics routine?

At any rate, Noel Whitehouse patted herself on the back, proclaiming that she gave excellent advice when she recommended that my mother put me over her knee for a spanking. I felt an urge to disagree with her, however, my bottom was already quite sore, and I was afraid that if I publicly disagreed with Ms. Whitehouse, I might end up getting another painful punishment.

The rest of my gymnastics routine proceeded without incident…other than the fact that I was naked and red-assed. Then, at the end of the evening, Ms. Streng’s friends thanked my mother for the enjoyable diversion, and they all prepared to go home.

I went to grab my clothes and get dressed, but Ms. Streng stopped me, placed a hand on my shoulder and indicated that she had something important to tell me.

“Scarlett, one of the biggest hindrances for female athletes is pregnancy,” Ms. Streng said. She was speaking directly to me, however, she said it loud enough that all of her friends could hear.

“You have a very beautiful body, dear. I worry that some boy will become enamored with you and get you with child, throwing a huge monkey wrench into your athletic ambitions.”

“Um, well, I’m not really…” I began, but she cut me off.

“I am therefore forbidding you to have Sex with boys, or even date them. I will not have some Horny teenage boy ruining your figure and stealing away your grace and agility. If I catch you with a boy, you will be severely punished.”

This was apparently an aspect of Ms. Streng playing games. She knew that I was a lesbian, but here she was, acting like I was straight and forbidding me from getting romantic with boys. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but I was certain that I’d find out eventually.

“Well, mother, if you’re certain that would be for the best,” I said timidly, trying to sound like a dutiful daughter.

“Oh, I do,” Ms. Streng said firmly. “If you have powerful sexual urges that you can’t ignore, find yourself a girl who is willing to help you. Girls will never get you pregnant. And they’re far less messy than boys.”

The more she talked the kinkier the scene became. My “mother” was threatening me with corporal punishment if I had Sex with a boy, however, she was encouraging me to have Sex with girls. Was there ever a family out there, where the mother made such bizarre intrusions into their daughter‘s Sex life?

“And I’m putting your friend Elizabeth is charge of keeping an eye on you,” my mother informed me. “If she sees you canoodling with boys, she’ll report it to me so that I may take appropriate disciplinary action.”

* * *

Elizabeth likes to play games too.

“Now that your mother has put me in charge of supervising your Sex life, you and I are going to have to have Sex more often,” Elizabeth claimed. “And the Sex better be good. If I’m not a hundred percent satisfied, I’m going to report you to your mother and get you punished.”

“She’s not my real mother,” I said as I got into Elizabeth’s car.

“She’s a strong, female authority figure in your life and she’s twice your age,” Elizabeth retorted. “Six of one. A half dozen of the other.”

“Whatever,” I replied. And as for punishments…,” I began.

Elizabeth gave me an inquisitive look and said, “Yes?”

“Well, when I think about being punished by a stern, older woman like Ms. Streng, my pulse races, my heart pounds and my Pussy gets wet. Does that make me some sort of weird sexual deviant?”

A broad smile broke out across my friend’s face, and she replied, “It makes you a delightful, sexy treasure and I Love you for it. Normal girls are boring.”

I was terrified at the prospect of being punished by Ms. Streng, but I was also madly in Love with the idea. Elizabeth and I discussed my feelings in depth and tried to decide when Liz should report to Ms. Streng and tell her I’d been a bad girl who had disobeyed her.

I mulled it over and what Elizabeth was saying made sense. My real mother was a gay-bashing, hyper religious bitch who would never be accepting of my sexuality. Beverly Streng on the other hand was thrilled that I was a lesbian and wanted me to experience as much lesbian Sex as possible. Also, she was insanely wealthy, and she’d already begun to show a willingness to spend some of her money on me.

“I suppose,” I said.

I needed a few days to get mentally and emotionally prepared. When I felt I was ready, I told Elizabeth to go ahead and send my “mother” a text message that I had been allowing a boy to have his way with me and that I needed to be punished for it.

Lexi and Nikki decided that they wanted to come and see me punished so they invited themselves along. Elizabeth texted Ms. Streng to let her know more of my friends would be coming.

Elizabeth drove us out to Ms. Streng’s estate, and we were greeted by Greta. Greta was Ms. Streng’s maid. She had nothing but disdain for me, and every chance she got, she treated me with contempt or abuse. She knew that I was there to be punished and a wicked smile spread across her face when she saw me standing at the threshold.

“Scarlett, the penitent daughter,” she said with bright, expectant eyes. “Your mother has decreed that your penance will be begin with me. You’re to do everything I tell you, or else your mother shall be very disappointed.”

I felt very uncomfortable about being placed under the authority of Ms. Streng’s maid, however, I has resolved myself to participate in Ms. Streng’s games no matter what she had in mind, so I reluctantly agreed to follow all of Greta’s orders.

While my friends were taken to the sunroom to sit and socialize, Greta escorted me to the kitchen, to help prepare dinner for Ms. Streng and her guests.

I timidly followed Greta into the kitchen. It was a large, well-appointed kitchen with every appliance one could ever need. I was marveling at the grandness of it all when Greta curtly said, “Get undressed.”

I took a step back and my eyes widened. “What?”

“Your mother wants you humbled and humiliated before your predominant punishment is inflicted,” Greta explained. “She feels it will help if you’re forced to do menial tasks in the nude.”

Greta openly stared as I stripped naked. She had a smug, victorious look on her face as I shed my clothes. I tried to conceal how uncomfortable it made me feel with her eyes riveted to me, of course my face blushed Hot with embarrassment once I was fully naked. There was no way I could hide that. Greta enjoyed watching me blush. Any indication that she was making me uncomfortable made her feel like she had defeated me somehow.

Greta put me to work, washing, peeling and cutting vegetables. She supervised my labors and if she felt that I wasn’t doing a good job, she would smack me hard across my bare bottom. I tried to protest, but Greta insisted that she had the authority to discipline me if my work wasn’t up to her high standards. I didn’t like Greta, but the way she was mistreating me made my Pussy throb. By the time we were done preparing the meal, my bottom was covered with stinging, red handprints and my pubic lips were swollen and glistening with my juices.

I couldn’t explain it…not even to myself…but being naked, abused and humiliated by a strong, dominant woman left me awash with feelings of dark, erotic desire.

“Tonight you will be meeting Ms. Frost,” Greta told me as I wiped down the kitchen counter and the cutting boards. “She is the founder and headmistress of Frost Academy. Your mother wants you to attend, so you need to make a good impression. Be on your best behavior tonight when you meet her.”

I nodded my head in acquiescence and asked, “When exactly will I be meeting her?”

“She’s one of your mother’s guests tonight. You’ll meet her when you’re serving her food and drink.”

“I’ll be serving tonight?” I asked. Nobody had mentioned that to me before. “Does that mean I’ll have to dress like you?”

Greta was wearing a classic maid’s uniform with a short black skirt, a white apron, white collar, and a frilly white headdress with a black band. It was like something out of a movie from the 1960’s. I’d feel silly wearing that, but I was there to be punished, so I suppose they wanted to take me outside of my comfort zone.

“No, you’ll remain naked the entire time,” Greta replied flatly. “Your mother doesn’t want you being a disdainful teenager when you meet her. She wants you to be all humble and defeated.”

“Naked?” I exclaimed. “How am I supposed to make a good impression on a school headmistress when I’ve got my tits and Ass on display? That’s insane!”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. Greta already didn’t like me, and my emotional outburst gave her an excuse to be mean to me again. She, twisted my arm painfully behind my back, bent me over the kitchen counter and spanked my Ass repeatedly until I screamed for mercy.

“You will do as you are told,” Greta barked at me. “Any sign of disobedience will be dealt with harshly.”

Greta gave me a tray of shrimp canapé’s and gave me my final instructions.

“Maintain posture,” the stern maid told me, “Stand straight whenever possible, back arched, shoulders back and chest thrust forward. Never allow your knees to touch, and don’t speak to any of the guests unless spoken to. I’ll be watching you to make certain that you behave.”

I stood as straight as I possibly could while carrying my silver serving tray. I made it several steps into the dining room and then stopped when I saw Ms. Frost.

She was a statuesque, blonde woman in her early forties. She looked confident, polished and well-tailored. My assumption that she would be shocked when I entered the room naked was quickly proven wrong. She looked me up and down and scrutinized my naked body like it was something of great value she was planning on buying.

My mother informed me that Ms. Frost was the founder and headmistress of the Frost Academy, an all-girls preparatory school. Ms. Frost hinted that I should be sent to her prep school as the teachers there have a way with rebels. She said that they would make me respectful and obedient.

“Forcing students to do menial tasks in the nude is one of the methods we use to break girls’ spirits and make them humble,” Ms. Frost said proudly. “Having you wait on us with your naked body on display is an idea you mother borrowed from me.”

My mother gracefully set down her wineglass and commented, “She could use some breaking of her spirit. I worry about her getting pregnant and I keep telling her to turn to her female friends to satisfy her sexual urges, however, she’s made it clear she has no interest in women. She is quite fixated on boys.”

“Yes, I’ve seen that before with some of the girls in my school,” Ms. Frost replied. “It’s a difficult problem with girls Scarlett’s age, but it’s not insurmountable. If a girl refuses to have Sex with the other girls, we whip her until she changes her mind.”

I blanched and felt a wild, swirling rush of emotions that was a mix of fear, embarrassment and sexual heat. They were talking about me as if I wasn’t even there and calmly discussing ways to abuse and punish me. It was cruel and surreal.

And it made my Sex throb with hungry spasms.

My heart pounded like a wild thing in my chest, however, I dutifully went around the table, serving food and clearing away plates, trays and platters as the meal progressed. Ms. Frost, my mother and the other women talked about the merits of whipping vs. spanking and how both might vastly improve my behavior.

If felt that I was being abused, however I could also feel the sexual heat between my legs increase to feverish levels. My Vagina throbbed and became so wet that it was literally dripping. I had a difficult time believing that a school like Frost Academy could truly exist, however, the idea of me being a student there stirred up my libido to an intensity that hadn’t seemed possible before.

I was reeling from the erotic energy in the room. My body seethed with sexual tension, and I desperately wanted someone to touch me. My breasts throbbed with an intensity that matched the throbbing in my head. I was the only one naked in a room full of well-dressed lesbians. They studied my body with prurient interest, and I was almost always within reach of one or more of them, but nobody reached out to touch me.

It was maddening! Their words, their gazes and my shamefully exposed body all combined in an erotic cocktail that left me trembling with sexual need, but none of the women made the slightest move to bring me to Orgasm. Ms. Frost kept giving me intense looks, which I’d hoped meant she’d be shoving her hand between my legs and impaling my Vagina on her fingers, but she never so much as touched me.

When the women were done dining, Greta ordered me back into the kitchen and set me to work. As I stood over the sink and washed dishes under Greta’s close supervision, I felt a soft, wet pulse in my Sex. I didn’t like Greta, but my clit was achingly hard, and I was so desperately wanting someone to play with my naked body, I would have welcomed Greta’s hand between my thighs. I even spread my legs apart suggestively wide as an invitation for Greta to touch me there.