Lonna

LONNA

AUTHORS NOTE:  Due to the unfortunate circumstance of the site crashing, well over a half dozen of my tales submitted over the past few months have lost ratings, story codes, readership numbers and even updated unpublished chapters.  Most of my stories ongoing, it appears the best way if I want to move forward with new submissions are to abandon those affected.  In doing so I’ve decided that any of my new and for certain less frequent tales when I fit in the time to continue to any degree may occasionally intertwine with some of the splintered old.  So, if a tale or two seems somewhat familiar in tone, be forewarned.

On a more personal note, the site’s misfortune is more then unfortunate.  Personally for me, since basically my main source of satisfaction for submitting stories to this site is their rated acceptance, it’s the reviews more then anything that are forever lost to me, especially the in-depth and articulate ones that a select few of the reviewers have spent their time pondering and submitting with the equal passion as most of the better author’s.  Thanks… J LEWIS

Part One

SYNOPSIS:  Husband and wife accept the guidance of a BDSM website author into the actual lifestyle of a submissive.  The author offering to post a storyline with her as the principal character, she initially agrees to submit to his whims for the tale to continue in additional chapters……… Which can, through a number of chapters guide her into the spiraling sadomasochistic lifestyle if the tale’s well received; otherwise the story can stand on its own as submitted. 

Chapter One

       Their chauffeured ride to the private club already having taken well over an hour, the misting twilight’s become darkness as she gazes out past the tinted window.  Settled back basically silent, the short, simple white terrycloth robe barely covering her naked body, the leather surface of the seat’s cool to the touch of her bare flesh.  The slightest of conversations, mainly an awkward silence in the darkness of the rear of the stretch Lincoln, the author weighs on her mind, her recollections of the degrees of stories he’d penned, on the one hand the erotic type that has had on more then a couple occasions her juices flowing, then again her thoughts wondering nervously toward the harsher, brutally dark tales more to her husband’s likings.

Initially apprehensive herself,  finally coerced by her husband into accepting the invitation to an evening of submissiveness at an actual fetish club recommended by the author, she can’t help but thinking back to what’s led to this evening.  An occasional indirect glance over toward her husband sitting to her left, she thinks back to the light but escalating role acting at times between them in the privacy of their bedroom, the spankings, the loose bindings, never anything much more painful then a few clothespins on her most sensitive flesh until they begin reading the author’s stories.  Reflexively slipping a hand beneath her robe, cupping a bare breast, she gently manipulates the slight roundness of the mound of her areola while silently recollecting the playacting becoming not quite enough, for either.

Staring back out into the darkness with mixed emotions, she sits thinking of the web site, the stories of bondage, submissiveness, even to the point of stepping up their little games, together mimicking an occasional erotic idea or two between them of the author’s, whose tales seem to always draw their collective interest above all the others.  She thinks of how his way of graphically telling his tale, the insight into the feelings of not only the perpetrator but the victim, has continuously made his stories to her a must read, even more so for her husband. 

Staring out the window, gently caressing her responding nipple, she recalls their talks after reading a recent story on the site that rocked them both, then of her husband actually having contacted the author over the internet e-mail, and after a couple correspondences agreeing to a tale based on her, leading up to her somehow both enthusiastically yet apprehensively submitting to this evening of actual submissiveness to begin their new ongoing storyline.

Deep down, the idea of an evening of submissiveness in front of a group of strangers at a real fetish club seems more then exciting.  After all, a couple of his stories have been incredibly erotic to her, to the point of at times secretly imagining being the submissive herself and simulating the role, to stimulating, masturbating herself while reading the tale while alone in front of the computer, actually even to inflicting some of the same punishment on herself with the clothespins, even one of her husband’s old, discarded belts.

Feeling her nipple hardening as she gently manipulates it; she can’t help but wonder what it’s going to be like to be subjected to a real session, even with her husband present with her.  On the other hand, in the back of her mind she also can’t help but anxiously dwell on some of the darker tales, the possibilities to harsh to consider.

The limousine slowing, turning onto a brick laid drive, practically stopping in front of the outline of what appears to be a guard shack to the left, the wrought iron gates ominously closing from behind as the Lincoln rolls forward, follows the winding drive cutting through the manicured, tree lined landscape, she can feel her heartbeat picking up, her stomach fluttering with anticipation, mixed with a mounting anxiety.

Again momentarily glancing over toward the back of her husband’s head as he continues to quietly gaze silently out his tinted door glass past the evenly spaced lighting on the passing hillside, she glances up toward the veranda of the looming estate as the limo approaches, slowly enters the circular drop off.  A sinking feeling, ominously sensing the background’s out of some of the author’s more harsh storylines, she realizes the chill spreading throughout her trembling body’s not just from the cool leather seat, as she can actually feel the goose bumps spreading across her bare breasts beneath the loose robe.

Observing the row of dark limousines lining the driveway in front of them being spattered by a light, misting rain, she watches the uniformed valet’s scurrying about, handing out umbrellas amongst the formal attired couples making their way up the number of wide, stone steps to the main entrance.  The limo stopping in line, the apprehension builds as she just can’t take her eyes from the mingling crowd, all so well attired, so proper, so unlike herself.  The sight brings out the thoughts of the more sinister stories, the harsh punishments of the heroin.

“Well Lonna?”……..

Nervously twitching, glancing back  toward her husband’s voice, his face now finally turned toward hers in the shadows, seeing the gleam in his eye even in the darkness of the limo’s unlit interior, she feels the doubts, lowers her eyes, quietly mutters, “I… I’m nervous…. scared... scared to death!”

“What?  What’s to be afraid of?  It’s just a little game, and I’m here with you!”

His voice firm, forceful, she can even sense the excitement he’s feeling, as much excitement for him as the apprehension in her.  “I… I don’t know!  I… I mean… Look out there.  Just look at them… At this place,” she almost whispers, her voice breaking in an almost pleading tone as she glances up toward the rows of heavily curtained windows lining the aged limestone facade of the asylum appearing estate.  “I don’t know if I can do it... Go through with it!  I’m… I’m too embarrassed to strip my robe… Like I said, I’m really scared!  Please!... Just look at this place!”

Sensing him sliding over toward her side of the seat, hearing the sound of the leather crinkling beneath his weight, glancing down toward his hands reaching out toward her, cupping the rounded curves of her covered breasts, she slips her hand down and away, watches as his fingers glide  across the outer contours of her breasts, part the robe simultaneously.

“Now… Now listen.  That’s enough of that!  Now assume the position like we’ve practiced so much at home!”  Hearing his firm voice, more then just a hint of a scolding tone, she feels her body shudder as the robe begins to spread apart, the terrycloth stretching across her bare nipples, the nubs hardening high on her firm, globular mounds being exposed.  Biting her lower lip, barely nodding, reflexively dropping her hands palms up against her obediently spreading thighs, arching back her shoulders as she’s rehearsed so much the past few days, her eyes remain fixed on her bared breasts as she hesitantly thrusts them outward for him as they gently bounce, sway.

“Okay, that’s better.  Now part those legs a little wider and let’s take a look at that shaved pussy.”

Again obeying his crude demand, still staring downward, she slowly spreads her hips further as she feels the warmth spreading across her face even as she also feels the cool leather making contact with her buttocks, her freshly shaven vagina, the puffy folds of her labium clinging, flattening uncomfortably across the supple leather of the seat.

“There then,” he scolds as he slips a fingertip down across her rounded pubic area to just above her parting slit.  “Just keep with the routine and you’ll be just fine tonight… Have fun with it… Then we’ll go back home.”

Raising her eyes, staring straight ahead toward the hazy reflection in the dark dividing glass partition of the limo as a tear wells up, feeling the limo’s slight momentary motion, again  coming briskly to a stop, she senses the movement just outside the vehicle, the sound of the handle being lifted, the door jerked open.  A cool rush of damp air, a few specks of moisture flicking in from above and she feels her husband’s hands across her shoulders, slipping the robe harshly down across her bare back as he firmly turns her toward the opening.

“When you step out, remember your submissive pose, even in the rain, hands palms forward to your sides, chest out,” he orders as in an almost single motion he quickly slips her left, then right arm from the short sleeves, drags the robe from beneath her bare buttocks, reaches around and cups her left breast, lifting it upwards.  “I’ll be right behind you myself.  Now keep these tits pushed out like this!... Go ahead now, get out there and show ‘em your stuff!”

Again the pounding in her chest and the churning in her stomach, the coolness of the car’s interior now’s a chilling, damp sensation as the mist filters inside the open door and settles across her bare flesh.  Hesitantly slipping her legs outward, she embarrassingly steps barefooted one at a time onto the wet, inlaid brick driveway.  Eyes focused on the curb just in front of her with the presence of two, three valets eagerly stepping around the limousine, the specks of moisture quickly becomes a steady shower of cold pattering raindrops deflecting off her bare torso as she blinks her eyes, arches her shoulders back.  Taking a deep breath, thrusting her already glistening breasts outward to the elements as ordered, she exposes her now naked body to the mounting onlookers, both nipples shriveling as they jiggle.

Straightening, she senses her face flushing as she assumes the pose she’s practiced in front of her husband over and over.  Feeling the chilling breeze, the cold raindrops absorbed into her bare flesh as she stiffly braces, she can’t help but notice several of the arriving couples also hesitating under their umbrellas as they look her way.  Lowering her eyes, her hair becoming disheveled, makeup beginning to smear, she feels groups of goose bumps spreading across her bare skin as she stands firm, obediently displaying herself in the raw, damp air.

A couple murmurs from the obviously appreciative valets, a few more audible observations of the other arrivals, she can feel the warmth continuing to spread across her face, now even across her glistening chest as the cold droplets of water splatter across her exposed breasts.  Hands rigid toward her sides, her hair already matting across her forehead, the humiliation is almost worse then her physical discomfort as she feels the misting shower soaking in.

Finally hearing the other door slamming shut, her husband stepping around the back of the limo, her eyes remain lowered toward the sight of the water streaking down across her quivering globes, trickling off her cold, puckered nipples.  The seconds ticking by like minutes, colder and wetter by the moment, she struggles to maintain her posture, to block out the onlookers, to force herself to continue with the routine as her churning stomach knots up.

“Okay Lonna,” he whispers as he hunches over, leans toward her ear, accepts an umbrella from a valet.  Flicking it open, letting the black material cover only his own head and shoulders, he adds, “No sense me letting my clothes get wet, huh?  Follow me.”  Stepping in front of her a couple paces, glancing toward the stone steps, he nods toward the ivy covered stone facade of the immense building imposingly situated on the summit.  Passing between several of the hesitating arrivals, without even glancing back, he casually climbs the three tiers of steps leading to the main entrance’s leaded glass double doors swung open under the canvas awning.

Stopping, turning as he closes the umbrella, shaking it two, three times, he sits it upright next to the door’s column under the canopy.  “Come on, get out of the rain, you’re ruining your makeup,” he scolds as if she had a choice while he watches her mounting the last couple of steps, naked and drenched, her bare breasts bouncing swaying from her arched  out chest.

Chapter Two

       Into the foyer, a domed Victorian themed entry, she obediently remains a couple steps behind her husband as she can’t help but catch glimpses of a number of patrons of the club drawing around.  Soaked, chilled to the bone; her bare feet leave wet footprints across the checkered black and white tile flooring as water drips from her naked flesh.  Unable to control her spontaneous shivering, her nipples puckering on her swaying, bare breasts, she’s led across the oval room toward a stand not unlike a podium of a finer restaurant where they’re greeted by a formally attired, more then middle aged but distinguished appearing man.

       “We’ve been expecting you,” he speaks with an almost condescending voice as he glances directly toward her, his eyes first lowering, slowly raising to obviously rest at breast level.  “It’s a shame the uncooperative weather’s marred your makeup.”

       Glancing back toward the husband while reaching a hand outward, an outdated quill tipped pen in his fingers, he turns a parchment across the podium’s slanted surface.  “She will need to sign this… You may witness it just below,” he speaks in the same tone as he holds the pen outward between the pair while he nods toward the agreement, “Then we can get started with her right away.”

        Watching her husband grip the pen, glance toward the document; she’s startled by the man’s stern, and firmer voice as he adds.  “No need to insult anyone by reading it… It’s just a release and a binding contract for her ‘care’ for the evening.”  A brief glimpse into the man’s piercing eyes, quickly lowering hers again, the anxiety’s quickly becoming a real fear as his voice becomes even louder, forceful as he glances back toward her husband.  “She looked into my eyes… That will be addressed immediately following her signature!... I assumed she had been properly instructed on how to behave… Hasn’t she?”  Tapping the table with the pen, glancing back at her, he again demands, “I said, haven’t you?”

       Sensing a glare from her husband, the ever tightening group circling them, she can feel herself trembling even more so, her face flushing as she fixates on the contrasting tile squares meeting just in front of her bare toes as she hesitates to speak, on what to say before weakly answering, “Ye… Yes Sir, I have… I… I’m sorry!”  Feeling her right wrist gripped, her husband’s hand almost forcefully placing her hand above the script, she reflexively accepts the feathered pen, scribbles her signature across the bottom of the almost full page of print.  Chest pounding, too frightened to even try to read the contract, she clenches her lower lip between her teeth as she watches while his hand surreally signs below her signature.

       “Very well then!”  The man’s voice no more pleasant as she’s again concentrating on the floor, she feels her wrists being gripped from behind, her arms tugged back past her sides.  “She’ll learn quickly not to make that mistake again… I’m sure of that!”  Still only his voice breaking the silence of the room as she feels herself being forced to bend slightly forward between a pair of men from behind, her elbows squeezed, tugged, bound, they’re tugged some more until she feels them painfully press together.  A wide strap wrapped across her throat, the tall leather collar fitting between her chin and sternum, everything seems to be happening in brief moments.

       Glancing over toward her husband as she pleadingly squints through the moistness still dripping down from her tangled hair, wet forehead, she feels the stinging sensation of her wrists crisscrossing up behind her back.  Being forced to tiptoe from the pain of her arms being impossibly bent, contorted until her wrists can be fastened to the back of the collar, she harshly grunts as an ‘O’ ring’s forced between her spreading lips prying her teeth painfully apart.  Unable to turn her head, relax her shoulders or arms, just as suddenly she’s forced to stand upright, her breasts jaunting outward, firmly swaying toward her sides as she tiptoes, twists in the grip of the pair of black clothed attendants straddling her from behind.

       “Enough!... Enough of that… Hold still girl!”

       The impeccably attired man’s voice echoes out again, even more assertive, demanding as he steps around the podium directly in front of her.  Holding the signed parchment in a raised fist, glancing toward the husband, back toward her, he continues, “The agreement’s signed, sealed and delivered!  The rest of the evening, and then some, you’re going to be experiencing the intimacies of our little club!”  Glancing back toward the husband, past him to the approaching chauffer, he adds, “He’ll be chauffeuring you back to your home… Of course with one of the submissives of your choice in the next room to accompany you, if you wish… The limousine’s waiting.  And, I believe you’ll be receiving an e-mail by the time you’re delivered back to your residence.”

Seeing her husband stoically turning away with the chauffeur who brought them, she anxiously watches as they stride from the foyer out into the hallway without even looking back. The entire situation surreal, almost in a daze, she feels the dread consuming her.  Lightheaded, her escalating pulse pounding through her chest, body aching, still trembling, glancing around at the accumulating mixed group of club members, she feels her wrists; forearms lifted upwards forcing her forward onto her tiptoes directly in front of the man.

       “He’ll be enjoying his evening, I’m sure,” he states as he glances toward the contract, back toward her as he adds, “But don’t worry, you’ll have more then your share of attention too, especially as soon as we get you prepared for your initial indoctrination.  I think you’ll be somewhat surprised just how much you’ll be experiencing with your contracted stay with us... It’ll be quite uplifting to start!”

Grunting, shaking her head back and forth, she senses a black scarf being slipped across her face from behind, covering her eyes.  Saliva already streaking down off her chin from the crimson ‘O’ ring, the scarf jerked tight, in the darkness she feels herself shoved from behind, forced into a brisk pace out of the foyer between the two attendants for the beginning of her first taste of true submissiveness.  

End Part One