My Personal Trainer Ch. 03

The next morning, I was naked and kneeling in the foyer, waiting for Isobel's assistant to get there. I felt shamefully exposed. I had spent my entire life as a wealthy, entitled girl. I wasn't adapted to being naked, exposed and submissively waiting for a servant to show up and do things to my body.

Mistress Isobel said that her assistant would be there between 8:00 and 8:30 to shave me and bleach my anus. She didn't allow her slaves to have pubic hair. She wanted my sex lips to be blatantly exposed. I shivered at the thought. It was humiliating enough being naked. Without the cover of pubic hair, I'd soon feel twice as exposed.

The hardwood floor of the foyer felt rough on my knees, and my heart pounded forcefully in my chest as I waited for a total stranger to arrive to see me naked and kneeling for her.

I waited for about fifteen minutes. The longer I knelt there, the more my levels of anxiety increased. What was Isobel's assistant like? I had never met her. Would she be more than I could handle? I ran through worst-case scenarios in my head.

Then, instead of knocking, Isobel's assistant let herself in. Apparently, she had her own key. Something about that sent a shiver down my spine.

Isobel's assistant was a cute Eurasian woman in medical scrubs. She was lithe, young and had a playful smile on her face. Still, I couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. I was naked and on my knees. She was clothed and standing, towering over me. The difference in our statuses could not have been more obvious.

"You must be Robin," the congenial woman said. "And aren't you adorable?"

She gave me a look that hinted at possible mischief. Then she came closer and crouched down in front of me.

"My name is Joan," the cute Eurasian woman announced as she reached for me. She cupped my face in her hands. "The first thing you need to know is that I'm an extension of Isobel. I have just as much authority over you as she does. You should obey me just like you obey her. If you misbehave, I have the authority to punish you, just like Isobel does."

Then she cupped both my breasts and brushed her thumbs across my conspicuously erect nipples. I felt a throb in my loins, and I moaned.

"Now, I'm here to shave your mound and bleach your anus. To do that, I'll need a bathroom, preferably one with a shower. Can you lead me to one of those, young lady?"

It was hard to concentrate on the words she was saying as she played with my sensitive nipples. My sex throbbed with hungry spasms, and my heart pounded in my ears. Her lips were moving, but the words weren't clear.

Suddenly, the gentle stroking of my nipples stopped, and Joan painfully trapped my nipples between her thumbs and index fingers.

"I said, take me to your shower room, pretty girl."

Joan stood up and maintained her cruel grip on my sensitive nipples. I was forced to stand up to lessen the strain on my poor, abused pink nubs. I stared into Joan's face. and suddenly her words were much clearer.

"It's upstairs, Mistress," I replied, adding the honorific without having to be told.

Joan released my nipples from her cruel grip. She grabbed her bag and said, "Lead the way, pretty girl. I'll keep a close eye on your perfectly shaped ass as I follow you."

Joan smacked me on the ass as I led her upstairs. I showed her the bathroom, and she ordered me to get into the shower and spread my legs wide.

"First, I'll wet you down. Then I'll give you a trim," she said as she turned on the water. "Then, I'll shave you."

She used the shower attachment to get me soaking wet. Then she cut my pubic hair extremely short before lathering me up with shaving cream. She spent a lot of time lathering me up.

She rubbed her slick fingertips up and down my pubic lips repeatedly. Of course, she "accidentally" brushed her fingers across my hard, sensitive clit as she lathered me up. By the time she was ready to shave me, I was moaning.

"Mistress! Please!" I begged as I braced myself against the shower wall. "You're getting me too worked up!"

Joan stopped lathering me up, gave me a mischievous look and said, "Don't worry about that, dear. I know what I'm doing. I'll take you to the edge, but I won't allow you to climax. Isobel gave me very specific instructions about you."

I made whimpering sounds as Joan shaved me. My pussy throbbed, and one agonizing wave of desire after another passed through my body. Joan enjoyed my sounds of distress and said that my suffering made me even more adorable. She smiled as she methodically shaved my vulva bare. And as soon as I was smooth and hairless from the front, she had me get down on my hands and knees so that she could shave me from behind.

I had never shaved my pubic hair before. And having the delicate hairs shaved away from my asshole felt odd. I wasn't used to being touched back there, especially not with a razor. But Joan was a professional, and even though it felt weird, she made me completely hairless without cutting or nicking me even once.

"There! All done!" Joan said triumphantly when my loins were completely bare. "You look so much cuter now that you're all smooth. Now, hold that position while I bleach your asshole."

Joan reached into her bag, snapped on rubber gloves and then thoroughly cleaned my anus before getting out her bleaching chemicals.

I noticed the chemicals had a faint medicinal smell. I bit my lower lip and tried not to move as Joan worked her fingers in my ass and smeared my anus with bleaching chemicals.

"Aaaahhhh!"

"Oh, did that hurt?" Joan asked tauntingly as the chemicals burned my sensitive flesh. I had no idea that the bleaching chemicals would hurt, and I clenched my jaw tightly, sobbed, trembled and suffered through the pain.

Joan placed one hand on the small of my back and worked her fingers in my asshole more aggressively.

"It's okay," she said softly like she was comforting a distressed child. "It only burns like that for a while. After that, it just tingles."

I felt utterly owned and controlled and submissive to Joan. I had only known her for a few minutes, and I already felt as if I were her naked slave and she could do whatever she wanted with me. My sex pulsed wetly as she cleaned me up.

Mistress Isobel arrived a few minutes later. She asked Joan if I had been a "good girl" and behaved while I was worked on.

"She whimpered and whined like a crybaby, but she followed orders," Joan explained. "And she looks even more adorable now, after the work I've done on her."

Mistress Isobel had me stand up and spread my legs wide so that she could examine my bald pussy. She grabbed my pubic lips, pulled them this way and that, inspecting my loins for any errant hairs Joan might have left behind. She examined me carefully but didn't find a single hair anywhere.

Then she had me turn around and bend over so she could examine my poor, abused asshole.

She pulled my buttocks apart and got a close-up view of my newly bleached anus and declared that Joan had done a good job.

"It's so pink, she exclaimed. "And your pussy is so smooth! This is how a slave girl should look! When we find you a master, they'll be so pleased!"

I was ordered to thank Joan for the professional job she'd done. Then Mistress Isobel asked me how things had gone down at the lesbian bar.

I was naked, my sex was throbbing with hungry spasms, and my poor asshole was hurting. It was hard to concentrate. But I tried to recount the details of my time at the club in Greenwich Village.

"I-I got there on time, just like you asked," I began, still on my hands and knees as I recounted my tale. "I was wearing that slutty dress that didn't cover up much. I was there for maybe t-two seconds before somebody approached me."

"You didn't chicken out, did you?" Mistress Isobel asked. "You keep reminding me that you're straight. I'm sure you were nervous your first time in a lesbian club."

"Yes... I was nervous," I admitted. "But I didn't chicken out. A cute redhead introduced herself to me. But before we could do anything, a taller, more intimidating woman walked up and chased the redhead away. She said she'd seen me first."

Mistress Isobel made a sound of approval. "So, she claimed you as hers? How very dominant of her. Did you get her phone number?"

"N-No, Mistress," I admitted nervously. "We kissed a lot. While we were kissing, she groped me. I flinched when she grabbed my ass. I was still sore from being whipped. When I explained why I'd flinched, she lost interest in me. I guess she's not into girls that get whipped."

There was a long silence as Mistress Isobel considered this. I experienced a surge of fear that she might punish me for failing to get Jill's phone number. I felt a spike of excitement at the thought of being punished, but I was also filled with dread.

It's a confusing cocktail of emotions. Punishment excites me, but it also fills me with fear and apprehension. I'm a confusing study of contradictions. I should probably bring this up the next time I see my psychologist.

When Isobel finally spoke, she said, "I'm disappointed. It would have been convenient if Jill hadn't run at the first sign that you're a masochist that needs harsh punishment."

Then she placed her hand underneath my chin and tilted my face up and added, "But you were an obedient slave girl. You did exactly as you were told. You'll get the reward I promised. But first, I have something fun planned for you."

Mistress Isobel knew that I had years of ballet training. She also knew that my family had a ballet training studio. She had me lead her downstairs and show her where it was.

"You have a delicious body, young lady," Mistress Isobel said to me as she pushed me deeper into the room. "Everything is tight and firm. I'd like to keep it that way. So, let's put you through your paces."

It had been a while since I'd done any ballet training. And I'd never done it in the nude. The full-length mirrors in the room forced me to constantly stare at my own naked reflection. And without pubic hair, my pussy was blatantly on display, making me feel more naked than I ever had in my life.

"You have a dancer's legs. And a dancer's ass," Mistress Isobel declared as she stood behind me. "Let's see if you can perform like a real dancer."

She started me off normally enough. She had me do a prancing warm up, then twenty minutes of glute bridges, followed by thirty minutes of pliés.

I'd had ten years of ballet lessons, so this wasn't exactly new to me. Of course, none of my previous instructors forced me to do my lessons in the nude. And none of them held a leather strap or threatened to use it on me as they supervised my movements.

After an endless number of plié squats, Mistress Isobel instructed me to do something far kinkier.

"They're called slave positions," she explained. "If I'm going to train you, you're going to learn them all. And I won't be satisfied until you learn to do them all perfectly and without hesitation. We'll start with the inspection pose."

The inspection pose required me to stand with my legs apart, my back straight, my hands clasped behind the back of my head, elbows back and my chest thrust forward. It left me feeling vulnerable, and Isobel had me perform these positions in front of the full-length mirror. I could see my plump, glistening pubic lips as I stood there with my legs spread wide and my chest thrust forward as if I were brazenly putting my tits on display.

"Okay, girl. Next is the wall pose."

In the wall position, I was required to face the wall with my legs wide apart. My arms were raised above my head, and my palms were pressed flat against the wall. I had to lean forward slightly and brace myself while I thrust my ass out. This position provided Isobel easy access to my anus and my pussy. It also made it easy for her to punish my ass with a leather strap.

"Next, the humble pose."

The humble pose required me to kneel with my thighs spread wide and my ass lifted into the air. I had to cross my hands in front of me and rest my head on my hands. It evoked feelings of deep vulnerability and exposure.

In retrospect, all the poses Mistress Isobel taught me evoked feelings of deep vulnerability and exposure. Every single one of them left my pubic lips exposed in a very lewd and unladylike fashion.

And while she was patient with me at the start, the longer we trained, the more she expected perfection from me. She would call out a slave pose, and if I didn't position my body perfectly at a moment's notice, she would swing her stinging strap, making me cry out in pain.

"Ow! Aaahhh! Mistress!"

"Pain is a great teacher, young lady," Mistress Isobel assured me. "It helps to focus your mind and motivates you to improve quickly."

"Exposed pose!"

"Kneeling pose!"

"Spread-eagle pose!"

"Punishment pose!"

Mistress Isobel called out new positions rapidly. And I had to assume them quickly to avoid the stinging snap of the leather trap across my ass or the back of my thighs.

"Mistress, please! Can't we give it a rest? I'm not adapted to this sort of thing!"

"That's what this is all about," Mistress Isobel countered. "You want a master. I'm adapting you to become a slave that can follow orders, take punishments and make any master proud. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be a quality slave that any master will be proud to show off in the BDSM community."

I whined and begged, but Mistress Isobel ignored my plaintive complaints and pushed me to do better, to respond quicker, and to master the slave poses more gracefully.

My heart raced, and my naked body was slick with sweat by the time she was done with me. I collapsed on the floor, panting and sobbing, tears running down my cheeks. I remained there, sobbing, until Mistress Isobel ordered me to get up off the floor so that she could clean me up.

We ended up upstairs once again, and Mistress Isobel ordered me into the shower. She stripped naked while the water warmed up and then she joined me.

I was denied permission to wash myself. My severe overseer took charge of washing me, scrubbing me with a brush until my skin burned and tingled. I stood obediently, assuming the wall position. I had done the wall pose so many times downstairs it had been drilled into me. At the mere mention of the words, my body instantly obeyed without my brain having to think about what the words meant.

I pressed my palms flat against the shower wall and spread my legs as wide as the confines of the shower allowed while my cruel trainer slid her slick hands up and down my naked body, exploring every curve and crevasse.

She took her time, lathering up my breasts, my firm abs and my sore, punished buttocks. Of course, I flinched when she worked her fingers into the tight furrow between my ass cheeks and pushed against the tender flesh of my anus.

"Mistress, please!" I cried out plaintively. "I'm still sore down there!"

"And?" Isobel demanded. "What sort of master do you think I'm going to be able to find for you if you can't take a little pain?"

I gasped and raised myself up on the balls of my feet as she toyed with my asshole, but I fought valiantly not to complain anymore after that. In so many of my sexual fantasies, I begged my tormentors for mercy, and my pleas were always ignored. Isobel seemed to know exactly what I needed without me having to explain it to her.

Her strong fingers wormed their way slowly deeper into my ass as I squirmed and whimpered. She opened me up wider and wriggled her fingers inside of me. She continued to probe deep in my rectum and scissor her fingers inside me, and I felt more and more helpless as she speared my asshole.

"You think a master won't want to stick his cock up your ass?" Isobel asked. "Your ass is a bewitching temptation! You're just a slave in training now. Once you have an actual master, I guarantee your ass is going to get plenty of attention!"

She worked her fingers in and out of my ass for what seemed like forever. And when she finally pulled them out, she rinsed me off, handed me the bodywash and ordered me to wash her.

"From my shoulders down to my feet," she demanded. "Be gentle but thorough, especially when washing my naughty bits."

Even though we were both naked, I'd been blocking out how sexual and intimate it was, our showering together. But as I coated my hands with bodywash and lathered up every inch of Isobel's naked body, I couldn't deny the blatant intimacy of what we were doing. The sexual tension was palpable.

I had never been into women. But the forced nudity, the humiliation, the way I'd been forced to submit, and the sting of Isobel's leather strap had all filled me with a potent level of erotic tension. My heart pounded excitedly in my chest, and there was an urgent throbbing in my sex as I worked my way down and touched her lithe, taut body everywhere.

I had never touched a woman sexually before, but I made a determined effort to obey my stern overseer. She had a very firm, sculpted body. She had a slender waist and a lithe build, but everywhere I touched, there were hard muscles underneath her soft skin.

"Of course, as a slave, you'll also need to know how to please women. Even if I find you a master. Some men like to order their slaves to perform lesbian sex acts for their entertainment."

I bit my lower lip and pouted at the announcement. I wasn't a lesbian, and I found the idea of being forced into lesbian sex to be humiliating, but Isobel insisted that slaves didn't get to pick and choose their sexual partners like free women did.

"I spelled it all out in that contract that you signed," Isobel said, lording her authority over me. "It's important that I teach you how to please a woman. If for no other reason than it's humbling for straight girls to be forced into lesbian sex acts. And for a rich, over-privileged girl like you, you'll need a lot of humbling before you'll be a suitable slave."

As my overseer, Isobel could demand that I sexually service her or anyone of her choosing. She tightened her grip on my shoulders, and I felt the strength in her arms as she pushed me down to my knees.

"Now, get to it, young lady," she demanded. "Prove your obedience to me. Put your mouth to good use."

I had never anticipated I would ever engage in sex with another woman. But there I was, kneeling in the shower with Isobel's smoothly shaven mound mere inches from my face, being ordered to service her with my mouth and my tongue.

Part of me balked at the prospect of licking another woman's vagina. Another part of me was excited that I was a slave in training being forced to do things against my will. I was naked, on my knees and with stripes across my ass from being whipped, submitting to a dominant woman.

I savored the authority that Isobel had over me. The contract I'd signed specifically gave her the power to punish me if I disobeyed. My pulse raced as I embraced my helplessness and my inferior status. Isobel's firm hand pushed at the back of my head, urging me to get started.

The sensation of another woman's sex lips against my lips felt unnatural to me. I extended my tongue, licking into the furrow. I worked my tongue in deep and found that the taste of Isobel's secretions wasn't bad. There was barely any taste to them at all. And her hard, swollen clit was easy to locate.

"Ohhh! Aaahhh!"

It was my first time going down on a woman, but I did extremely well for an amateur. I identified as straight, but I felt a surge of pride that I was able to rapidly master lesbian cunnilingus. Maybe it was a slave thing. Maybe I was just happy to please my overseer and prove my value as a slave.

Isobel grabbed my head and trapped it in her viselike grip as I worked my tongue into her pink slit. It was a good thing that she gripped my head so hard. The frantic way Isobel moved her hips made it difficult to keep my face in physical contact with her pelvis.

I lapped at her juices and took her clit into my mouth and sucked on it like a hard candy. Mistress Isobel shuddered, screamed and juices gushed from her sex as she reached a boisterous climax. Then she leaned against the wall of the shower and panted as she savored the orgasmic afterglow. I knelt there at her feet, looked up at the dreamy look on her face and felt like a student in school who'd just got a passing grade on a very important test.

"Alright, my obedient slave girl," my overseer said, still looking deliciously sated, "you earned your reward. Now, get into inspection pose."

I spread my legs as wide as I could and placed my hands behind the back of my head, with my elbows thrust back. Mistress Isobel playfully toyed with one of my nipples while simultaneously placing one hand between my legs.

"Now, keep your legs far apart and keep your tits thrust forward," Isobel demanded. "Don't break position for any reason. Be a good girl and show me that you have enough self-control to do that."

"Oh! Ah! Aaahhh!"

Mistress Isobel kneaded my sex lips and worked them apart. Then she inserted her index finger into my vagina and explored my moist interior. My sex throbbed with hungry spasms, and she added another finger and pushed deep and quickly located my G-spot.

"Oh! Oh God! Mistress," I gasped. She told me to stop squirming. Her voice was so imperious and commanding. It triggered my submissive instincts, my eyes widened and I struggled to obey.

She pushed three fingers deep inside me, curling them up in a come-hither motion. My pussy grabbed her fingers, holding them tight.

She squeezed my breast and toyed with my nipple while her fingers pumped and probed inside of me. I could feel my pussy clamping down on her fingers. My heart pounded, I panted and gasped and my legs trembled as I felt the intensity of the orgasm building inside me.

Isobel painfully pinched my nipple. I whimpered, but the intensity of the pain fueled the intensity of my arousal, transforming the pain into some sort of dark, sexual delirium.

I writhed in reaction to the cruel abuse of my tender nipple, but I also writhed to rub my achingly hard clit against Mistress Isobel's hand. My heart pounded, and my sex throbbed as my orgasm approached.

I felt submissive and owned and helpless. I kept my legs spread wide and my boobs thrust forward as my overseer abused my nipple and mercilessly fucked me with her fingers.

"Oh! Ooh! Uuhhhhhh!"

I was a straight girl getting raped by a lesbian dominant and when I shuddered, spasmed and exploded into ecstasy, there was no hiding the fact that I was experiencing the most powerful orgasm of my life.

"Oh God," I panted, experiencing the orgasmic afterglow. Mistress Isobel gave me a few minutes to recover before ordering me to towel her dry and help her get dressed. As I attended to her, she announced that she had new homework assignments for me.

"You're a rich, pampered girl who's never worked a day in her life," Mistress Isobel observed. "That feels inappropriate for a slave. You need to know what it feels like to work. So, I found a job for you. Tomorrow, you're going to Wells. It's a women's university in East Village. Ms. Kulp's art class needs nude models. You need to be there by 10:00 am. You need to be naked and posing for the students by 10:30."

I'd heard of Wells University. Rumor had it that thirty percent of their students were lesbians. A typical class size would be forty students. Was I really expected to undress and pose nude for so many lesbians?

"I've never been in the workforce before," I said nervously. "And my very first job is posing naked in front of a large audience?"

"Don't complain," Mistress Isobel said sternly. "Slaves who complain get punished."

If I felt uncomfortable at the idea of posing naked for a large group of strangers, my next homework assignment left me feeling even more so.

"And before this day is over, you need to talk to your mother or sister; I don't care which one; and request that they give you a spanking."

"What?" I protested loudly. "Mistress, neither Drew nor my mother is comfortable with the whole bondage and discipline thing! They're only grudgingly going along with it because they know how important it is to me! I could never get either one of them to spank me!"

Isobel grabbed my chin, tilted my head up, so I was looking her directly in the eye and said, "I never said it was going to be easy, young lady. These homework assignments are designed to be challenging."

I pouted, gave her a sad look and tried to imagine getting Drew to spank me. It seemed like an impossible task. There's no way she would be willing to do it.

"If you fail, I'll be whipping you again," Mistress Isobel declared imperiously. "I haven't decided how many lashes. But rest assured, the whipping I give you will sting far more than any spanking your little sister or your mother might provide. Tell them that. It might help to motivate them."

My jaw dropped, and I struggled not to complain. I trembled at the thought of talking to Drew and requesting that she throw me over her lap for a spanking. And even if I managed to talk her into it, the humiliation of being spanked by my sister would be crushing.

My heart pounded frantically in my chest as I tried to figure out what to do. I wanted to just quit and give up, but what sort of slave just gives up after tasting slavery for just a day or two? I was filled with apprehension and a sinking feeling of dread, but I was determined to somehow see this through.

Joan had left while I was doing ballet warmups and Isobel left after giving me my homework assignments. That left me alone in the house with Drew and my mother. I decided to get the spanking over with. I could worry about posing for the lesbians tomorrow.

I dried off, took the towels down to the laundry room and then went looking for my sister.

I walked into Drew's room and found her in front of her computer. It looked like she was on the Urban Outfitters website. She looked so adorable and innocent. It felt extremely awkward for me to go to her for something so kinky, but when Mistress Isobel gave me an order, what choice did I have? It wasn't in me to disobey.

"Hey, Drew," I said softly.

"Hey, Robin," she responded. Her gaze almost immediately drifted to my crotch. I felt my face blush red-hot. Now that my vulva was smooth and hairless, my pubic lips were shockingly on display. Of course, they were thick and puffy after just getting fucked by Mistress Isobel's strong fingers.

Drew seemed to consider saying something about my lack of pubic hair, thought better of it and then her gaze drifted back up to my face.

"So, is the scary lady gone?" she asked, referring to my stern mistress.

"Yeah, she's gone, but she gave me another homework assignment," I replied. "And for this one, I need a volunteer."

"A volunteer for what?"

My heart hammered in my chest, and I wished Mistress Isobel could have asked me to do something that wasn't so awkward. Drew looked so innocent and sweet, almost like Anna from that Frozen movie. How could Mistress Isobel expect me to go to a sweet, innocent Disney princess and ask her to spank me?

"I need to get either you or Mother to give me a spanking. A serious spanking. It has to hurt."

My sister gave me her full attention. She bit her lower lip, and there was a protracted silence as she considered my words before she replied and said, "I'm sorry, Robin. I just can't. I can drive you to Greenwich Village to your lesbian club, but spanking my own sister? I just can't bring myself to go that far. Sorry."

I nodded my head and replied, "If I can't get one of you to spank me, Mistress Isobel is going to whip me. And I can assure you, that's gonna hurt much worse."

Drew sat silently and considered this, but before she could respond, my mother marched briskly down the hallway. I turned towards her as she approached. Then once we made eye contact, she announced, "I'll do it."

My sister stared at my mother and looked shocked. "You're really going to spank her?"

"She accused me of being too indulgent and soft on her," my mother explained. "Maybe it's about time I changed. I can begin by giving her the spanking that was requested from you."

I shuddered at the thought of going over my mother's knee, and my head reeled. I felt almost overwhelmed with the absurdity of the situation. My mother had never spanked me once during my entire childhood. Now, I'm an adult in my early twenties.

How could I possibly be getting spanked by my mother at my age?

"Come, Robin," my mother urged. "Your sister doesn't have to watch. We'll do this downstairs."

Somehow getting spanked by my mother felt like a much worse idea than getting spanked by Drew. My head was reeling. My mother had been so adamantly opposed to me being involved in BDSM at all. Now, she was volunteering to spank me?

"You complained earlier that I'd made life too easy for you," my mother reminded me. "I guess all that's about to change."

She herded me down into the kitchen and pulled out an armless chair. I was stunned by the unreality of it all as my mom sat down and pulled me across her lap. As she grabbed my hips and positioned me in an ideal position for a spanking, I was too stunned to resist.

Being spanked by my mother would somehow be far more humbling and humiliating than being spanked by Drew. But there was something deep inside of me that felt a rush of excitement at the idea.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!"

My mother was forty-four years old. I wouldn't have expected she could spank a girl very hard, but from the very first swat, her spanking stung.

So did the second swat. And the third. Of course, my ass was already sore from all the times Mistress Isobel had cracked her leather strap across my poor, defenseless backside. In some ways, the spanking my mother delivered was rekindling the pain of Isobel's strap.

Reflexively, I squirmed across her lap and kicked my legs. Tears welled up in my eyes, and droplets of sweat began to bead on my torso as she inflicted red-hot torment on my innocent buttocks.

At some point, my mother paused in smacking my poor bottom, but she didn't allow me to get up. My breathing was ragged, but above the sound of my own labored breathing I heard my mother say, "When you told me I made life too easy for you, you said that it's normal for human beings to struggle and experience pain and distress. So, do you feel normal now? Or am I still making life too easy on you?"

"No! You're doing just fine," I cried out, my ass a riot of pain. "You're the best mom ever!"

"Thank you, Robin," my mother said as she kept a tight grip around my waist. "That was nice of you to say. However, your ass isn't quite red yet. I should probably give you twelve more swats just to make sure you experience the appropriate amount of distress."

It felt like more than twelve more swats. And before the painful ordeal was over, she began to spank the backs of my thighs, which hurt even worse than when she spanked my ass.

"Aaaaahhhhhhh," I cried out and continued to bounce and writhe across her thighs. My ass felt cooked by the time she was finished, and I was sobbing uncontrollably. Then, she ordered me to get off her lap.

Once I was standing on shaky legs, I realized that our maid was standing there. Her eyes were wide, but she hadn't said anything. She just stood there, looking surprised. Every time she saw me from then on, she'd remember how she saw me, naked and squirming across my mother's lap as I got spanked like a little girl. I felt unbearably humbled and humiliated.

"Oh God, Amelia," I said as I gently rubbed my sore bottom.

I felt humiliated and panicky with Amelia standing there, watching. My mother seemed utterly calm, as if there wasn't anything at all unusual about the servants seeing her daughter naked with her ass reddened from a cruel punishment.

"Amelia, I'm glad you're here," my mother said calmly. "There's something that I need you to sign."

My mother grabbed a folder and pulled a legal document from it. She handed it to Amelia and said, "It's a non-disclosure agreement. Basically, you're signing an agreement that says you won't tell anyone about anything you see going on in this house... especially as it pertains to my daughter, Robin."

My mother pays well... more than the other people who have servants come over to clean. So Amelia didn't even hesitate.

But after she signed and handed the NDA back over to my mother, she said, "I promise I won't say anything to anyone, Mrs. Marinov. But what is going on between you and your daughter?"

My mother filed the legal document away, turned back to the maid and said, "Do you have any children, Amelia?"

Amelia shook her head and said, "I have an ovary condition. I cannot have children."

"Well, consider yourself lucky," my mother replied. "This one complained that I made her life too easy, that she has too much privilege. So now, I'm making changes around here. I'm making things harder and taking away some of her privileges. Isn't that right, Robin?"

I looked over at my mother as I rubbed my poor, abused ass cheeks. My eyes were still welled up with tears, and I felt delirious with shame as the maid got an eyeful of me naked and teary-eyed from my punishment.

"Yes, Mother," I replied. "May I go now?"

It was one thing for Drew or my mother to see me naked. But for the maid to see me naked and cruelly punished was a soul-crushing humiliation.

Being the only one naked in a room with two fully clothed women was humiliating, and since my vulva was shaved bald, I felt even more naked than naked. I felt utterly exposed and vulnerable. This was like a scene from one of my private sexual fantasies... only real. And one that would leave me feeling humbled for the rest of my life.