Message-ID: <46310asstr$1074571807@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <006601c3ded8$233fecc0$345b413e@km3> From: "Kjell Madsen" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 19 Jan 2004 22:55:25 +0100 Subject: {ASSM} Paradise Island - Ingrid's Tale [1/4] {Madsen} Lines: 1558 Date: Mon, 19 Jan 2004 23:10:07 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, hecate, hoisingr <1st attachment, "Ingrid, part 1.doc" begin> Paradise Island - Ingrid's Tale, part 1 of 4 By Kjell Madsen, 2004 Shortened Preface This story contains sexual themes, words, and situations. If you are underage, don't read it. If you don't like this sort of stuff, don't read it. This is not a 'stroke-story' -- if that's what you are looking for, you are wasting your time. Story codes: Framework: mf, Ff, f-solo, SciFi Ingrid's narration: ff, mff, FF+, M+F+, Fdom, rom, slow, caution These are the general codes that I think best describes the story as a whole. I put in caution because there are elements in various chapters that, technically, might deserve harsher codes. However, these elements are not described in detail. See chapter breakdown in the full preface for additional codes for the prudish. On the other hand, hardened ASSM habitus might argue that the whole story should be labelled 'no-sex' -- there *is* sex in it but it is described without 11-inch penises, orgasmic shrieks with multiple exclamation marks, floods of sperm and vaginal fluids, and similar graphical details. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and the characters are fictional. Any similarity to real people, living or dead, is entirely accidental. The author does not necessarily endorse all the actions of the characters. Plea for feedback: I love feedback but seldom get any. Please, send an e-mail and tell me what you think to kjell (DOT) madsen (AT) home (DOT) se. The fine print: This story is copyrighted 2004 by Kjell Madsen, all rights reserved. Please ask for my permission first if you want to repost it or use it in any other way. Archiving by ASSTR is permitted and encouraged. This is part 1 of 4 ### Prologue The woman dozed on her pneuma-coach; she had parked it on the porch of her 'cabin' and reclined the seat as far as possible. Occasionally, the machine emitted a soft noise when it inflated a section of the mattress and deflated another to give the woman a gentle massage. No other sounds disturbed the quiet. A light breeze played with her hair, covering and uncovering her face. Her hair was almost white and her face was covered with wrinkles, suggesting advanced age. Nevertheless, the overall impression was not one of decrepitude but of wisdom; her wrinkles spoke more of laughter and compassion than of sorrows. Her face possessed an age-less beauty and it was still easy to see the lovely young woman she must have been. This impression was enhanced by the rest of her body. The climate in the X-57 space-habitat was tropical and the 'weather' was, of course, controlled and always benevolent. Thus, there were no need of clothes for protection and few of the inhabitants wore anything at home or in their everyday activities. (Naturally, there were an endless variety of garments used for festivities, but the purpose of that clothing was not protection, but purely ornamental -- very often outfits that would have been deemed impossibly indecent on Earth). Consequently, the woman was naked and her skin showed signs of a long life in the open with little or no clothing. Her body looked amazingly trim and her breasts were still full. Good genes, balanced diet, careful exercise, and the benefit of 0.2 g pseudo gravity had preserved her body's youthful tone far beyond her years. It was hard to believe that she was 96 years old and a great grandmother. *** A clear female laughter suddenly broke the silence. "Stop it, Sam! I love you and I love flying, but it's impossible to mate in the air...Oh! ...Yes! ...But please stop. I have other things to do..." The woman on the coach opened her brown eyes, smiled fondly, stretched like a cat, and rose from the coach in one fluid movement. She opened the screen-door and went out to look at the 'sky'. Two large 'birds' were circling each other in a complicated aerial ballet. Presently, one spied the woman on the ground and called out in the same clear voice: "Hello, Granny, I'm coming". One 'bird' separated from the other and dove toward the ground. When she came close to it she checked the dive with two rapid flaps of her wings and landed lightly on her feet. She folded her wings and ran into the waiting embrace of the elder woman. "Hello my angel," the woman greeted her, "is Sam getting fresh with you again?" The stunning young woman's face lit up with a wide grin and her nipples hardened visibly. "Yes, he has this preposterous notion that we should fuck in the air -- not even birds can do that. But he is cute and I love him anyhow." She looked up at the young man who had followed her and was circling close to the ground. "Come on, Sam!" she called, "come down and say hello to my fairy grandmother." Sam landed and folded his wings, taking care to cover his crotch. "Hello, Mrs. Shane," he said somewhat shyly. "Mrs. Shane! Don't be ridiculous -- call me Granny, or Ingrid like the others," the woman said with mocked sternness. "And don't bother to cover up," she added with an impish smile, "I have seen it all before." She closed in on the man and kissed him firmly on the mouth. She caressed his rigid cock briefly and continued. "I hope that you aren't mad at me for interrupting something urgent -- but Jenny asked me to help her with her graduation project." Sam blushed hotly and mumbled something inaudible. Meanwhile, Jenny had shucked her wings and now stood completely bare, watching the others. "Poor Sam!" she giggled. "I cannot leave you like that. You would get a case of blue balls, or worse." With that, she fell to her knees in front of Sam and promptly gave him a blowjob. It didn't take him long to come and afterwards he kissed Jenny tenderly, said goodbye, flapped his wings, and rose (a bit unsteadily) to the air. Jenny watched him leave and when he turned toward her, she threw him a kiss. *** Ingrid and Jenny went inside and Ingrid poured a tumbler of orange juice for Jenny. They sat down at the table and Jenny drank deeply. "Ah! Flying is thirsty work," she sighed contentedly after she had emptied the glass. "Not to mention other activities," Ingrid chuckled. "Well -- what can I do for you, Jenny?" she asked after a short pause. Jenny hesitated; "... I'm not quite sure how to begin -- but I would like you to tell me about your life." She fidgeted, looking uncertain, but Ingrid could see that the girl was determined to go ahead so she just smiled and nodded. "... I mean -- you are the oldest living member of our community -- and you have experienced so much that we in the younger generations have no ideas about". Jenny squared her shoulders and continued determinedly. "Take me, for example. I'm 16 years old and I was born in this habitat. I have never been to Earth -- not that what I hear about it sounds very inviting -- but I would like to learn how it once was before we almost destroyed it..." Jenny stopped and looked both relieved and expectant. Ingrid kept her face bland and thought furiously. Wherefrom had Jenny got this idea? Was it from her mother Joliet? It was only two days since Joliet, who was the current deputy Colony Leader, had more or less demanded that Ingrid dictated her autobiography to 'preserve Important Historical Knowledge (her capitalization) about the founding of X-57'. Ingrid had refused adamantly and claimed that she was old, but not old fool enough to reminisce futilely about the long past. Was this another trial to talk her into something she didn't care to do? Jenny looked pleadingly at Ingrid. "Please..." she said. Ingrid sighed, "Damn Joliet!" she thought. Jenny was her favourite and to watch the girl grow up -- so like herself -- was one of her greatest pleasures in her old age. She sighed again and said, "Dear Jenny -- I don't know what possessed you to ask me this. I've always looked forward, never back -- and only senile old fools live in the past." She winked at Jenny who looked dejected and continued, "Alright, Jenny -- I'll make you this deal: I will tell you about my sinful past -- but only if you come here and listen to me. I absolutely refuse to talk to a stupid computer -- and I will start from the very beginning. If it is your mother who talked you into asking me this, she will have to wait a long while for her Historical Knowledge -- and I bet that you will grow tired of my ramblings long before we reach the founding of X-57." Jenny's face was immediately lit up with a wide grin that showed off her dimples. "Thank you, Granny Scheherazade -- you tell tales and I will listen for a Thousand Nights and a Night" she promised. Ingrid giggled, "Well, I don't think it will take that long -- and if I'm a princess, I think Cinderella is closer." They continued to talk and Jenny confessed that Joliet had goaded her to make her request. "But I'm much more interested in your life when you were young -- Say, is it really true that you were a slavegirl?" she asked with curiosity shining in her eyes. "Now, now" Ingrid chuckled, "that's several chapters into my memoirs -- and we agreed that I will start from the beginning." They agreed that Jenny should come and listen to Ingrid's tales for two hours every afternoon after school and Ingrid gave her permission to hook up a voder. "I guess it's OK for the computer to listen if it doesn't interrupt -- and it's probably the only way to keep your Mom out of my hair." When Jenny had donned her wings and flown away, Ingrid sat long on her coach, looking out on the deepening twilight -- so reminiscent of the Swedish summer nights she experienced so long ago -- maybe reminiscing wasn't too bad after all... Chapter 1 -- My Childhood Ingrid was sitting on her porch the next afternoon when Jenny entered, shucked her wings and came to embrace the elder woman. Ingrid had prepared sandwiches and other light food and placed it on a table between her pneuma-coach and a second recliner. The table also held glasses and several bottles of wine and mineral water. "Please, sit down Jenny -- and help yourself to a sandwich and something to drink." She poured herself a glass of wine and sipped on it. Then she continued, "Well, Jenny -- are you ready to hear about my childhood?" Jenny smiled, bowed, and kissed Ingrid's hand; "Yes, noble princess -- please begin your tale!" she declared. *** I was born in a small town in Sweden called Kil. The name means wedge in Swedish and refers to the shape of the land. Look at the map and see if you can find it; localize the large lake Vnern and follow its western shore north until you find the city Karlstad, then look for the long lake Fryken north of Karlstad and follow it north again until you find Kil. The town had close to two thousand inhabitants and my Dad worked as engineer in one of the paper-pulp factories, while Mom was a nurse. I don't remember anything about Kil from that time -- my parents bought a farmhouse and Mom quit her job when I was a little more than one year old. However, my two years older brother, Christopher, remembered a little about our first flat in Kil and he told me later. Our house was located in a tiny village that was so small that it didn't even have a proper name -- it was called By (that's 'village' in Swedish). There were only five houses in By and one house was a deserted ruin. In the smallest house, a 'soldier cottage' from the 18th century, there lived an old couple; the woman was very kind and filled the role of 'fairy grandmother' for us kids but the old man was gruff and we were afraid of him (I now believe that he was shy but we didn't understand that then). One of my Dad's workmates moved into one of the houses with his family at the same time as we did. The man's name was Olof (but he was called Olle) and his wife was Kerstin. I adored 'Uncle Olle' as I called him and loved to sit on his lap, listening to his fantastic tales about princesses, princes, dragons, trolls, and... They had two children: Leif was almost grown-up (five years my senior) and was already going to school in distant Kil when I became aware of him; his brother Bengt, however, was my age and we became great playmates. The last house was occupied by a young couple from Stockholm who moved in one year later than we did (as part of the 'green wave'). They didn't have any children until much later. (I was ten when Eva had her twin babies and I still remember my thrill when I was allowed to hold them for the first time). Thus, by necessity I grew up as a tomboy; I had only two playmates, Bengt and my brother Chris. We were always together and our plays were always wild boys' plays -- whether we were Indians or spies or intrepid explores. Uncle Olle called us 'the three musketeers' -- which of course necessitated an explanation and led to new games and vigorous fights with wooden swords. Chris, who was the eldest, was our leader but Mom told me later that I was the wildest. When it was summer, we went tree-climbing, fishing, and swimming in the nearby lakes. In the wintertime we went skiing or skating or built snow-castles which the 'knights' Sir Bengt and Sir Ivar (that was me) stormed with snowballs, while 'King Christopher' defended them valiantly. The loser(s) were taken prisoner and 'tortured' with 'muleing', i.e. pressing snow against the face and sometimes inside the clothes. When my younger brother, Lars, was old enough to participate in our games, he became our esquire. *** The only unusual thing (as I understood later) with my childhood were our clothes -- or rather lack of clothes. The climate was cold with long winters and a lot of snow -- one meter or more was common. Naturally, we had warm clothes when we were outside. However, indoors we went naked as often as not. I never used nightclothes until I moved in with a roommate during my studies in Karlstad in my late teens and I didn't know what a swimsuit was before my class went to the community swimming pool in elementary school. One of the absolute 'highs' was in the spring when we could cast off our clothes and run around naked outdoors -- and an annual disappointment was when Mom told us to put on our clothes again in the autumn (always far too early in our opinion). Throughout the summer, I didn't wear a stitch, unless I accompanied Mom and Dad on a shopping trip -- and I usually stripped in the car as soon as we left town again. There must have been some kind of understanding among the adults about how to handle nudity -- I and my playmates continued to be naked at home and throughout the village even when we grew older and nobody said anything negative about it. I don't think my parents were nudists -- at least not the organized, camp-going type -- and they usually wore at least some clothing, but they were not shy about nudity. Sex, was also something we learned about early. If you live on a farm, you see the animals 'doing it' all the time and my parents were not adverse to explain what they were doing, and why. Neither was human sexuality a forbidden subject for questions and frank explanations. I was maybe four years old when I caught my parents in the act the first time and I was upset, at first, because I thought that Dad was hurting Mom. They hugged me and explained what they were doing, and I saw that it was the same thing that the pigs, and goats, and dogs, and... were doing. Dad let me touch his erect penis and I was amazed by its size. Naturally, I wanted to fuck him like Mom but he just smiled and told me that I was too little yet -- something I accepted readily and fell asleep with my curiosity stilled. I must stress that I was never molested in any way and there was no incest in our family -- much later when Chris and I started to think about it, Mom had a serious talk with us and explained why it was a very bad idea for brothers and sisters to fuck each other. We listened in wide-eyed horror -- we both had seen stillborn and malformed animal foetuses -- and wowed solemnly not to do it. Somewhat later (in junior highschool) I realized how different our upbringing was from the norm when a very embarrassed and red-faced biology teacher stammered something almost inaudible about sex and my classmates tittered nervously. This was my only formal 'sex-ed' -- something that probably would have surprised people in other countries who often thought of Sweden as 'The Land of Sin'. *** The first time schools made a serious intrusion into my life was when Chris started elementary school shortly after his 7th birthday -- Leif had been going to school for years and years but he had always been a distant, almost adult, figure that had very little impact on my life. Now my brother (a very important person in my life, indeed) put on his school clothes, went to the school bus, and disappeared for the whole day -- and I wasn't allowed to go with him. I still remember my bitter frustration of being 'too little' for school and I pestered Mom until she helped me to teach myself to read and write. Whenever Chris was doing his homework, I sat together with him and learned as much as possible. As a result, I'd already mastered almost everything taught in the first two grades of elementary school when I started school two years later. However, in the rigid Swedish school system that was not an advantage -- I found school boring and I think my early experiences discouraged me from higher studies. Incidentally, Bengt didn't share my early scholastic interests and he had a hard time learning 'the three Rs' when he started school. However, he was a late bloomer and went on to the university -- he became a professor in Biochemistry. Going to school meant meeting girls in my own age but I found most of them rather silly -- playing with dolls and other silly things. I preferred to play and fight with the boys, and I think some of the girls were scared of me. However, I eventually found one girl, Maria, to be together with. She stuttered and was very shy, and the others teased her cruelly. I took her part -- even at that young age unjust treatment angered me -- and bloodied the nose of the worst teaser. After that incident, I had a loyal supporter and admirer in Maria and I think she learned to be more assertive from my example. *** My most terrifying experience in school -- one can really talk about a scandal but not in the sense my teachers thought -- was our first visit to the community swimming pool that I mentioned before. It occurred close to the end of the first grade when our class should be tested to see who could swim satisfactory (I think it was 25 meters) and who needed more training. The community of Kil arranged 'swim school' at several places during the summer break and these schools were free of charge. Needless to say, I swam like an otter -- Chris, Bengt and I used to race across our lake and back, which was more than a kilometre. Nevertheless, I was very excited because I had heard those of my classmates who were from Kil proper talk a lot about the fantastic pool. Thus, I shucked my clothes as soon as we came there, ran straight to the pool, and dove in -- as naked as a frog. After all these years, I can still not understand the reaction of my teachers and other adults. Instead of talking calmly with me and explain that I was supposed to wear a swimsuit (I was hardly aware that such garments existed), they reacted in panic. When a big male lifeguard finally caught me, he more or less threw me out of the pool and marched me brusquely to their office. There, he left me for half-an-hour -- without any explanation. When my teacher arrived with my clothes, I was terrified and crying uncontrollably, but she just threw the clothes at my feet and ordered me to put them on. She took me out to her car and drew me back to school, still without a word of explanation or (far less) consolation. Once there, I was brought to the headmaster's office and he (whom I hardly knew) started to call me bad names and threatened to have me expelled from school. Then he called my Dad at his work and threatened him too. Dad arrived at the office presently -- and I have never seen him so angry. He and the headmaster started to shout at each other and I was terrified again. When they, finally, stopped I was shaking with sobs and I could hardly see for all my tears. I didn't understand what terrible thing I had done -- but I feared the worst. However, Dad was not angry at *me*. He calmed me and actually carried me to his car. He drew a little bit outside the town, parked the car, and asked me to tell him what had happened. Then he gave me the explanation my teachers should have given me in the first place. "It's not your fault, princess", he said, "there are a lot of rules in our society that one must obey -- and one of the silliest is that even small children must not be naked in the community pool." He continued to say that he was sorry that he hadn't told me earlier but he had no idea that our class was going to the pool. "If you like, we can go to the warehouse and buy a nice swimsuit that you can use the next time," he concluded. The next day, my teachers had come to their senses and they never mentioned the incident again. I guess that they finally realized that I was naive and really didn't know better when I made my nude splash in the pool. (My classmates teased me, of course, but I was big and strong and had a reputation as a fighter so it never became too bad). I used my suit the next time we went to the pool but I never liked it -- I never used it at home. The rest of my schooling was unremarkable; I eventually graduated from highschool with mediocre grades, and then I went to nurse school in Karlstad. This was a big step -- my first time away from home with all what this meant to me -- but that must be the subject of tomorrow's tale. *** Ingrid took another sip of whine and looked at Jenny. "What do you think, Jenny? Boring isn't it?" she asked. "No, not at all!" Jenny protested. "I found the tale fascinating and hard to believe -- snow is frozen water, isn't it? -- And more than one meter! -- How could you *live* through that?" "We weren't used to anything else and humans can live in almost any climate. I must say, though, that I prefer to be naked in a tropical climate like this -- but I miss skiing sometimes", Ingrid replied. "I guess it must be somewhat like flying", Jenny answered dreamily. Then she sat up and looked straight at Ingrid. "However, I cannot believe your story about the swimsuit -- it's the sickest thing I ever heard -- please tell me that it isn't true", she continued. Ingrid sighed and replied, "We were living in a sick culture -- you who had the advantage of growing up in a healthy society cannot understand how sick it was. We Swedes thought our attitudes were more rational than most -- and maybe they were -- but deep down we were suffering from centuries of abuse from the Church and other authorities. I don't ask you to believe this -- it's totally unbelievable. Sex was considered dirty and sinful -- and nudity, even of children, was intimately connected with sex. Therefore, my teachers and the other adults probably reacted with a knee-jerk reflex and treated my nudity as if I committed a rape or something like that." Jenny just shook her head unbelievingly -- as Ingrid had warned her, it was totally unbelievable. Chapter 2 -- My first lovers Ingrid smiled at Jenny when she entered. "Hello, Jenny", she said, "You are prompt as usual -- are you ready for my next tale?" "Of course I am," Jenny replied. "What will it be this time -- tales from the nurse school?" "Well, not exactly," Ingrid answered her, "I'm going to tell you about my first lovers." She closed her eyes and began talking... *** I reached my menarche two months before my 12th birthday; I wasn't surprised because I had been waiting for it almost a year. I thought I knew everything about sex. As I told you yesterday, I had seen mating of animals, and my parents, since I was a little girl. I had also seen Chris enter puberty and was fascinated in the changes of his body. He was now growing hairs on his crotch -- He didn't have to shave yet but he looked eagerly in the mirror every morning. Naturally, we explored each other's naked bodies and I liked to caress his penis. The previous summer, our games had become overtly sexual and I saw him ejaculate several times. (Bengt still thought sex was yucky and he was somewhat alienated at that time). Nevertheless, my puberty was somewhat of a shock to me -- I had never imagined that it would be so damn *personal*. As my body started to develop female curves, Chris' interest in me grew more intense. He was morbidly fascinated in my menstruations, and he loved to fondle my budding breasts. We masturbated together (and each other) and I had my first orgasms. I was caught in a hormonal storm and my developing body felt awkward. My thoughts, day and night, were occupied with sex -- raw, animal sex, not the romantic ideas that my female classmates seemed to be occupied with. As Chris grew more insistent, and I became more interested, we progressed from handjobs to blowjobs and we were constantly talking about fucking. I guess that we would have done it within weeks if Mom hadn't given us her horror lecture. That put a damper on the heated situation and we stopped short of fucking. However, I continued to have oral sex with Chris until he left home to study engineering at Chalmer's Technical Institute in Gothenburg. Was Chris my first lover? Well, we certainly loved each other and most people at that time and place would have regarded our friendly play as sex, incest, and sin. The taboo against incest was terribly strong -- and even normal sex was regarded as something shameful. We could have landed ourselves in terrible trouble but, fortunately, our parents -- just like an American president somewhat later -- didn't think that oral sex was 'real sex', and they only admonished us to be discrete. We were -- and Mrs. Grundy never found out. I guess that our neighbours in By knew what we were doing -- but if so, they never told. *** Instead, I 'lost my virginity' (Jenny, can you believe that it was actually called that?) to Bengt shortly after he reached puberty about a year later than me (changing his views about sex dramatically). He was also a virgin and very shy -- I had to trip him and it was somewhat of an anticlimax. There was no pain or bleeding -- I don't know if I broke my hymen earlier or if I was one of the women born without it -- but there was no orgasm either. However, our lovemaking grew better and became quite satisfactory in the end. We continued to make love almost every day until I left home. As a former nurse, Mom had a 'no nonsense' attitude to teenage sex and she quickly arranged to put me on the pill so there was no risk of me becoming pregnant. My early introduction to sex and the pill might have caused me to end up a few inches shorter than I would have been otherwise (inches that I was sorely missing later when I tried modelling -- more about that later). However, the cause may very well be genetic -- Mom was about an inch shorter than I became. *** I had sex with a few other boys during highschool but I had to be careful -- it was easy to be branded as 'an easy lay' those days if you were too interested, and that could be devastating for a girl's reputation. (For some reason, this rule only applied to girls -- the boys were supposed to fuck around.) Therefore, I played 'Miss Ice queen' most of the time and demanded an extended courtship before I let a boy do as much as kiss me. I don't think any of my classmates found out my true sluttish nature -- I was a 'good girl'. I often dreamed of seducing some of my teachers, Dad, Uncle Olle, and several other men. However, they were even more unapproachable for all practical reasons and I never did anything sexual with any of them. Moreover, Chris, Bengt, and my own masturbation managed to keep my simmering sexual lusts under control -- barely. *** Going to the nurse school in Karlstad was the most breathtaking event so far in my young life. It was too far to commute so I had to leave home and move to the city. For a teenager who was used to live in a tiny village where you could run around naked in the countryside and who regarded Kil as a large and busy city, the change was dramatic and almost terrifying. Karlstad seemed like an impossibly hectic metropolis -- people were hurrying around everywhere like busy ants and the streets were filled with more cars than I was used to see in an entire month. The school had a 'student home' where out-of-town students were boarded. Moving there was another shock -- the contrast to my free life at home couldn't have been greater. There were a scores of different rules we students had to obey -- curfew at 8 pm, strict dress codes, no visitors allowed in our rooms, and (heaven forbid!) no male visitors or anything else that could (even remotely) be associated with sex (in the view of the school, sex didn't exist)... Such rules were made for breaking -- and they were (constantly and enthusiastically). We were chaperoned by a retired nurse who lived in a flat in the house -- and outwitting her became the favourite sport among us girls. I rapidly became adept in playing 'good girl' while bending the rules to suit me -- I was never caught. In retrospect, I believe that this extracurricular training was the most valuable part of my education -- I learned to never take rules at face value but to use my own judgment and to bend the rules (discreetly, of course) if necessary. Another important extracurricular training was provided by my roommate, Lena, who introduced me to lesbian sex. She wasn't actually a lesbian and she had a boyfriend, Jan. (Yes, Jan is a male name in Sweden but it tends to be mixed up with Jane in English-speaking countries. Jan told me that once he went to a scout meeting in the US -- and he was placed in the girl-scouts' camp for a day before the situation was rectified.) Lena was so sweet and our sex felt so natural that neither of us had any second thoughts. I'm definitely heterosexual but I don't sneer at girl-sex -- It can be very friendly and satisfying and it made the long 'dry spells' without men easier to endure. The second semester, our friendship became strained for some time when I (inadvertently) stole Jan from Lena. How? Well, he walked in on me when I was naked and masturbating -- and one look at me was enough to trip him. I was so hot that the first thing I noticed of him was his rigid cock entering my pussy. As expected, Lena took a dim view of the event and she accused me bitterly of seducing Jan, and then she didn't speak with me (or Jan) for several days. However, in the end we kissed and made up -- and subsequently we shared him, often by having sex all three together. It was really sweet and I still think a triangle with one man and two women is the best combination of all -- if they all love each other and if the man is up to it. Our stud was definitely up to it, and he was fun to be with -- out of bed too. Not that we had sex only in bed -- far from it. Jan and Lena married eventually but we kept in touch and after my own marriage I invited them to Paradise Island. We had a wonderful time there, reviving our 'mnage trois'. It was Jan who (also inadvertently, I believe) started the events that got me expelled from nurse school and eventually made me Mrs. Shane -- but that is a long story and it must wait for a later date. *** Ingrid stopped talking and opened her eyes. She looked at Jenny and broke into an amused smile when she saw the state the girl was in. "Hmm -- you seem to like my story, Jenny", she chuckled. Jenny blushed and moved her hand from her pussy; "Yes, yes, YES!" she exclaimed, "It's so damned hot that I can't believe it -- I have never tried girl-sex but it sounds fantastic". Ingrid, winked and replied; "If you want to try it, I think that I'm still quite capable to show you a few things, my dear", she giggled. "Come here and let me show you!" she commanded. Ingrid was, indeed, capable when she applied all her vast knowledge of 'The Fine Art of Pleasing Women'. Jenny was soon shrieking in ecstasy and finally she passed out... Much later, Jenny kissed Ingrid tenderly and thanked her from the bottom of her heart. "Thank you, Ingrid -- it was the most incredible experience in my whole life." "Can we do it again sometime? -- And can you show me how to do what you did to me? -- I would love to it to you." Ingrid smiled tenderly, "of course, I will tutor you in this Art -- and then you will owe me a return favour that I'm looking forward to" she replied. Chapter 3 -- Modelling Jenny rushed into Ingrid's porch with an air of eager anticipation and immediately started to talk. "Hello, Granny -- I cannot wait for your next tale any longer. Will you tell me what dastardly deed Jan did to you?" she asked breathlessly. Ingrid laughed cordially. "Yes, that and much, much more", she replied. She winked at Jenny and continued. "Take a seat ye mighty Empress, and hear my tale..." *** It started innocently enough; Jan was an ardent amateur photographer and he was always taking pictures of Lena and me -- with and without clothes. He soon had hundreds of photos of me and when he heard that the 'Miss Vrmland' contest was about to commence, he submitted my name and a few pictures (not the nude ones, I hope). He didn't tell me anything about it and I was, therefore, very surprised and rather upset when I received an invitation to participate. However, Jan and Lena convinced me that I was beautiful enough to win the contest and be invited to the 'Miss Sweden' final -- and then, who knows... I started to become enthusiastic -- even if I didn't dare to believe that I would become Miss Sweden, it would be an exciting adventure. I decided to go ahead with it and accepted the invitation. However, what none of us counted on was the reaction of the school management. I don't *know* that they read our mail -- but how else could they have found out about my participation so soon? The next morning I was called to the headmistress' office and she gave me an ultimatum -- withdraw from the 'immoral spectacle' (her words) at once, or leave the school. I deemed it unladylike to lose my temper, but this time I wished that I could punch her nose -- or at least that I was back in elementary school and could throw a tantrum. Of all silly notions, this was the worst I experienced since I jumped into that community pool long ago. I mean -- what's immoral with a beauty contest? Posing in swimsuits? -- Heck! Those suits were *less* revealing than what you could see on any beach. With great difficulty, I calmed myself and asked for time to consider -- I was given 24 hours. It wasn't really an issue. I was fed up with antiquated attitudes from the days of Florence Nightingale -- I was studying to become a nurse, not a nun. Moreover, I had started to wonder if I had the proper vocation -- I was rather fed up with bedpans et al. too. However, I needed to tell my parents and find out if they would support me. I called Mom and got her instant approval to quit -- she never liked nurse school either and was shocked that the attitudes still were the same. With light heart, I went to my room and started packing. Returning to By was like Heaven after Purgatory -- I shucked my clothes the first thing and challenged Lars to a swim-race across the lake (he won but I didn't begrudge him that -- I was jubilant to be back home). *** I had several talks with Dad and he urged me to make up my mind what to do, now that I'd decided not to be a nurse. He said that it was no *great* hurry but I had to decide to become *something* -- maybe a secretary. I promised to give it a thought but I wasn't too keen on his suggestions -- I had met a few secretaries and I thought that their work seemed boring. On the other hand, my grades from highschool were not very good, and I didn't want to study at the university even if I could, so my options were rather limited. Thus, I procrastinated and waited for the beauty contest. Finally, the day of the contest arrived and I made it to the final. The finalists' pictures appeared in the newspapers and I became a celebrity in Kil -- everybody wanted to talk about the contest and wish me luck in the final. It was held two weeks later and I made it to the final round -- but I was beaten and a blond bombshell from Karlstad became Miss Vrmland that year. However, being a finalist and a runner-up meant that I got several offers for various publicity jobs and I gained several useful contacts. One such contact was a model agency in Gothenburg that engaged me as model for the catalogue of a mail-order company in Bors. Modelling was fun but harder work than I thought and the pay was modest -- but it meant my first own money, and Dad shut up. I did a few commercials and I worked as nude model for Gothenburg Art School. Finally, I became the centrefold in 'Fib-aktuellt' (a men's magazine). The pictures were quite innocent -- some of Jan's pictures were much more explicit -- but they created a sensation in Kil. (And I hope the old dinosaurs at the nurse school saw them -- I would have loved to see their faces turning purple.) *** My break came shortly after Christmas when I received a letter from London via my model agency. The British agency was looking for a new trend in models in the 'post-Twiggy era' (Twiggy was a sylphlike supermodel who created a sensation in the sixties and started a vogue that persisted for more than two decades -- if it ever ended). They had looked at some of my pictures and been attracted by my natural 'girl next-door' look -- and they wanted me to come to London for an audition. Wow! London really *was* a metropolis but, at the same time, it managed to keep a quaint small-town charm. I simply loved to explore the streets and the parks, together with my friends or all alone, and I was never afraid. The audition went well; I was added to their 'stable' and moved in with other models in a 'bed-and-breakfast' that was run by a charming old lady (of a kind I don't think they make anymore). Six girls shared a bathroom with an ancient bathtub (with lion paws) and a WC you wouldn't believe. I worked hard and did a number of glamour shots -- but the Twiggy trend was more persistent than expected and the agency wanted me to lose ten pounds. I tried but it seemed impossible -- I was not fat (I never was) but they started to say that I was too fat -- and the number of offers declined. I became depressed but during this difficult period I met a girl from Finland, Karin. She consoled me and we grew quite close. Karin was from a Swedish-speaking family (she told me later that it was her foster-family and that she didn't remember her biological parents). We didn't make love, but she liked to cuddle (she was very cuddlesome) and she comforted me a lot. Karin looked like an archetypal Valkyrie -- tall, blond, and statuesque -- and it was easy to imagine her clad in chain-mail, riding over the battlefield, and collecting the souls of fallen warriors to Valhalla. Nevertheless, she was very sweet and there wasn't a mean bone in her body -- I loved her. She had been living in London for two years when we met and she was currently working as a freelance model. Encouraged by her example, I started to look for jobs apart from the model agency (with the intention to break my contract when it came up for renewal). I wasn't shy, used to nudity as I was from home, and I did a number of nude model jobs -- both for artists and photo sessions. I participated in soft-porn movie, liked the experience, and contemplated to accept a staring role in a hard-porn flick. However, Karin warned me that the hard-porn market was a swamp that would destroy me. She had seen it happen to one girl and heard about others. "They'll use you and abuse you, Ingrid", she said, "and when you lose your freshness, they'll dump you -- and you will end up whoring on the streets." I wasn't totally convinced but I promised Karin to stay away from hard-porn as long as possible. My economy was not very good but I wasn't starving -- I could wait. *** Ingrid sat up and looked at Jenny. "Then came my second (and greatest) break -- the one that led to Paradise Island (and eventually my marriage with Bob). However, this story is so fantastic and long that it will take several chapters in my memoirs -- and it's getting late already..." she concluded. Chapter 4 -- Slavegirl training Ingrid smiled impishly at Jenny when the girl returned the next afternoon. "Jenny, today you will get your treat -- the tale about how I became a slavegirl," she announced. Jenny's grin almost reached her ears and her nipples went 'sprung'. "YES!" she almost shrieked. "Oh, Granny, I'm wet already. I think I will come from pure anticipation" "Be my guest," Ingrid giggled, "and maybe we can squeeze in some tutoring after my tale" Jenny moaned with pleasure and closed her eyes -- it was evident that she was close to orgasm. Ingrid waited for the girl to calm down a little and, then she asked the girl to sit down and listen. "Masturbate if you must, Jenny," she said with a fond smile, "but try to be quit so you don't distract me from my tale." She closed her own eyes and began... *** Late one afternoon when I returned to my room, my landlady intercepted me with eyes shining of excitement and curiosity, and she told that a gentleman had asked for me in person (oh, dear!). Then she gave me a note that the man had left for me. It was a request to call him at his office 'as soon as convenient' about a 'position' as hostess at a tropical resort. I was intrigued but it was too late to call that day, so I called him the first thing in the morning and agreed to meet at his office the same afternoon and to bring my 'portfolio' (i.e. collection of pictures from my modelling career). I went to the office -- it was located in a Victorian house in a very exclusive part of London. The only sign of any commercial activity was a row of discrete brass panes beside the door with names and titles (a lot of 'Sirs' and an alphabet soup of occupation titles). I found the correct name, pressed a button beside it, and was soon ushered into an office that reminded me of the British Empire. The occupant of the office fitted perfectly into the picture -- elderly, very distinguished, very polite but very formal, tree-piece suit and something that looked like a school tie from an exclusive private school -- the only things missing were a bowler hat and an umbrella -- but, heck, we were indoors and he had probably hidden them in a wardrobe somewhere. A secretary brought tea and the man started to ask questions. I had a very hard time to keep a straight face -- his accent was pure Oxford and his manner was very 'stiff upper lip', but the questions he asked me clashed completely with the rest. I felt unreal -- here I was, sitting opposite the very archetype of a thoroughbred British gentleman who was old enough to be my grandfather -- and he asked me intimate questions about my sexlife, occasionally looking into some kind of questionnaire on the desk. What kind of 'position' was this? My concern must have shown because he stopped his questioning and started to assure me that he worked for a very distinguished client and that there was 'nothing inappropriate' with the position. Unfortunately, he couldn't disclose the name of his client. I was not convinced but our conversation steered into safer subjects and I did my best to answer his questions candidly Finally, he asked me to show my portfolio and his eyes widened when he turned to the nude shots. I took advantage of his distraction and glanced at the questionnaire -- the heading said 'Paradise Island, Inc.' and there was an US address that I memorized. After a while he closed my portfolio but asked me if he could borrow it for a couple of days. I almost lost my composure -- the idea of him jerking off looking at my nude shots (in private, of course, 'nothing inappropriate') came unbidden to my mind. With great effort, I managed to suppress the hilarious image and I told him, with a graceful smile, that he could keep it. (I was proud of myself -- I was howling with laughter inside). With that my interview was finished. He promised me to contact me as soon as he heard anything from his client -- he had the address to my British agency already but I was planning to return home for vacation, so I gave him the address of the model agency in Gothenburg and told him that they could forward any messages to me. (I was still suspicious of his intent and I didn't want to give him my home address.) *** That evening, I told Karin about the absurd meeting -- and I could finally let out my penned mirth. Karin laughed with me -- but she warned me that it could be dangerous. "I smell a rat, Ingrid", she said. "I think 'sex-slave' is closer to the truth than 'hostess' and I've heard rumours about girls being kidnapped and sold into white slavery -- please be careful, Ingrid!" I agreed that the same thoughts had crossed my mind and promised her not to do anything hasty. The next day, I returned home to By for my vacation. *** It was fantastic to be back home -- it was summer and it felt wonderful to be able to abandon my clothes and run around naked again. The first two days I did nothing at all but basking in the sun and swimming in our lake. Then, I told Lars about the mysterious position and asked him if he could find out more about Paradise Island, Inc. My brother had just graduated from highschool but he was already a computer wizard. How he did it I don't know -- but the next day he had found out a lot. The company was owned by Mr. Robert Shane, a billionaire in the computer business. "I've heard about him", Lars told me. "He invented new ways of computer graphics and sold his inventions to Microsoft. He is rich like a troll and Paradise Island is a pet project of his." Lars told me that the company had leased a tropical island named Rarotonga and that they built a private resort there. The island was a part of 'The Federated States of Micronesia' in the Pacific. I found Micronesia on the map -- a lot of islands spread over a large area -- but I couldn't find Rarotonga. I had been home for nearly three weeks, and I had almost forgotten the whole thing, when I received a letter from Paradise Island, Inc. via the model agency. It contained an invitation to go to Paradise Island (Rarotonga?) for a job interview -- first class tickets to Tahiti were provided and they would meet me there. My parents advised me not to go and I was apprehensive myself. However, this was High Adventure and the prospect of returning to a mediocre modelling career in London (or far worse, to become a secretary) was appalling in comparison. Thus, I thought hard for maybe five minutes -- and then I decided to accept the invitation. Three days later, I was on my way to Tahiti -- Wow! Adventure, here I come! *** My enthusiasm was considerable less and I was bone tired when I stumbled into the lobby of the O'Hare airport Hilton late in the evening after almost ten hours in the air (and more than five on the ground at Kennedy airport in New York). My next flight would start early in the morning the next day and I only wanted to get to my room to grab a few hours' sleep. However, it turned out that sleep was postponed for several hours. I got my key card and was waiting for the elevator when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and was facing a grinning Karin. "Karin, what on Earth are you doing here?" I managed to ask. "Taking care of you, naughty girl", she replied and her grin became wider. "I suspected that you would rush ahead with this foolish affair -- and when I found out that you did, by making a nuisance of myself at the office of your British gent, I raised Heaven and Hell and got an invitation too. There must be an intelligent person in the party to save your ass if this is a jump from the frying pan into the fire," she giggled. I was happy to see her -- we embraced and kissed and she accompanied me to my room. Once there, Karin told me more and I almost choked with laughter when she described her adventures. I would gladly pay a small fortune to see the scene for myself when my Valkyrie friend accosted the strict man in his office, threatening to cause a scandal if he didn't yield. In the end he did -- and Karin was invited to Paradise Island the next day. She had arrived with a direct flight from London -- and she would accompany me the rest of the way to Tahiti. "I still think this is madness, Ingrid", she told me, "but now, at least, we are two together and we can help each other." "I wish we knew our final destination..." she sighed, looking wistful. I told Karin what Lars had found out and she smiled a relieved smile. "Great, Ingrid!" she exclaimed. "This might be the lifeline we need." She rose from the chair and left the room. "Sleep well, Ingrid, I will take care of everything..." she said. I wondered what Karin was up but I was too tired to care. I took off my clothes and fell on top of the bed -- I was too tired to bother with the coverlet and I think I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow. The telephone woke me after too little sleep. It was Karin; she told me that everything was OK and that we had two hours before our flight was due. I showered, dressed and met her in the restaurant. Karin looked tired but pleased with herself. "Everything is under control, Ingrid" she said with a satisfied smile. "It took some time -- but if we disappear now, Mr. Shane will get his just deserts." I wondered what she had done but she just smiled enigmatically and told me not to bother my pretty head with it. "I know a few dirty tricks but I don't want to corrupt you, my naive little Ingrid", she declared. We checked out after breakfast and soon we were flying west again. *** My memory of the rest of the trip is foggy. It seemed interminable -- I recall dimly that we changed flights at least two times and when we, finally, arrived at Tahiti airport, I was more than half-asleep on my feet and Karin had to drag me along. Not that she was in much better shape herself -- I still wonder how much sleep (if any) *she* managed to get in Chicago. Presently, a woman in some kind of uniform came, asked us if we were Ingrid and Karin, and told us to follow her. I seem to remember that we went outside and onboard another aircraft but the next thing I remember clearly was waking up beside a naked redhead. She was freckled all over, her name was Christine, and she said that we met earlier. Then I realized that I was naked myself and wondered how I lost my clothes -- and where they were. I had hardly started to feel apprehensive when a tiny door opened in the wall and Karin emerged, drying her hair on a towel. Glory Be! A shower! Christine and I almost fought each other to be first in it. After the shower, we dressed (our clothes were neatly folded beside our beds) and joined five other girls who were sitting in the main cabin. The woman, her name was Sue Anderson, served breakfast (or whatever -- my stomach was totally out of sync). Christine presented me to the others. They were all from different parts of USA -- Linda and Nancy from California, Joe-Anne from Arizona, Betty from Chicago, and Marina from New York. Christine herself was from Manchester, England -- it was evident from her accent -- but she had travelled in the US when she was caught in Mr. Shane's net. All the girls were beautiful and friendly in their own way but I became particularly fond of Joe-Anne -- like me she loved to be naked outdoors but she had to be more careful with it than me. Shortly after the meal, I got my first view of the island. Wow! It looked to good to be true -- Paradise Island was really a fitting name for it. As we came lower, I could see fantastic beaches with white sand and palm-trees but no buildings or roads. Sue explained for us that Bob (that's what everybody called Mr. Shane) liked it that way and that he, consequently, had arranged to hide any signs of civilization as far as possible. After landing, we were met by a middle-aged lady (Johanna) and a native young man (Peo) clad in a small loincloth. They brought us to their 'guesthouse' -- a sprawling complex of low buildings with a central lobby and a large pool outside. Inside the lobby, there was a teenaged native girl (My) and she was also wearing only a loincloth -- and she lost it soon enough when she was teasing Peo, who turned out to be her brother. Johanna laughed at her performance and told her to show us our rooms -- which she did stark naked. Later we had dinner and I was tempted to shuck my clothes and go starkers. However, I thought that it was maybe unwise to shock the others so soon. I compromised and put on my tiniest shorts (no panties) and a halter top. It turned out the others had reached a similar conclusion and Joe-Anne was the most daring -- she was 'dressed' like me, minus the halter top. Joe really loved to be naked -- after the first day on the island, I hardly ever saw her wearing anything. She ganged up with My and went all over the place, as far as the native village, in her birthday suit. It was quite safe to do so -- the natives had no body taboo at all and their customs inspired me when I had some influence on our society here on X-57 (more about that later). When six other girls arrived at the island a few days later, our group gained another starker -- Gretchen from Germany. She was even more enthusiastic (some would say fanatic) about it (her parents *were* organized nudist and they were going naked anywhere they could). I couldn't compete with these two exhibitionists but I never used my swimsuit at the pool and I often went naked to the beach for a swim in the lagoon. At meals, I usually wore at least on item of clothing -- often just a long t-shirt to keep myself warm in the slightly chilly air-conditioning. Most of the other girls followed more or less the same dress code and there was only one girl (Nina from Croatia) who never went beyond topless at the pool *** Finally Bob and his assistant, Elisabeth (Lisa) Reilly, came to the guesthouse and told us what the mysterious job was all about. I wasn't very surprised to hear that we would become sex-slaves and Karin looked meaningfully at me. "Let's talk later," she mouthed. Many of the girls looked scared but I thought that I saw something assuring in Bob's eyes. God! He had lovely eyes behind his glasses. I was beginning to feel very turned-on and I hardly listened when Lisa assured us that nothing bad would happen if we declined the contract and that the company would pay our return tickets regardless of our decisions. I was drowning in Bob's eyes and I felt how my juices started to trickle from my hot pussy. My greatest concern at that moment was how to hide my arousal -- including the telltale wet spot that was probably forming at the back of my dress. (I was wearing a dress, and so did most of the others, feeling that a more formal attire than usual was appropriate. Heck! Even Gretchen wore clothes -- but I bet she didn't wear any underwear -- and neither did I.) I managed to leave the room after the meeting without raising any undue excitement, and then I went to my room to calm down. I was in the shower when Karin knocked on the door and entered. "Have you cooled down enough to discuss the contract now?" she giggled. I blushed clear from the top of my head, down to my toes and stammered my denials. Karin laughed cordially and stuck out her tongue at me. "Don't bother to deny it -- Bob turned you on, little slut -- I know you too well for you to hide it", she continued. I didn't deny it a second time and we started to discuss the contract. "I still think we should decline," Karin told me, "but I guess that wild horses couldn't move you from the island now, Ingrid", she added with a smile. I blushed hotly again and started to think hard -- but it really wasn't an issue. Four years as a slavegirl wasn't a too high price to pay for economic independence (the pay was $ 2000 000 plus expenses) -- and maybe I could win Bob's heart -- I couldn't believe that he didn't feel at least a tiny bit for me what I felt for him. Karin saw the answer in my eyes before I could speak up. "OK, Ingrid," she concluded, "you are determined to stay -- and therefore I will stay too. We must tell Johanna tomorrow and I must cut our lifeline -- I cannot keep it in place for more than a few days without using it." We talked with Johanna the next morning and gave her our signed contracts. Then Karin told her about the lifeline and what she must do to cut it. Johanna paled visibly and immediately called Lisa -- there was a local telephone net but to reach outside one had to use a satellite phone. Therefore, Karin left to meet Lisa at Bobs 'manor house'. She returned a few hours later, looked at me and said, "Well, Ingrid, it's done -- we are on our own now." I felt a strange mixture of apprehension and relief -- we had jumped into the sea with both feet now and there was no return. Of the other girls, only Ruth, a spunky girl from New Zealand, had decided what to do -- we three took it easy at the pool and waited for the others to make up their mind. *** The moment of truth arrived at noon two days later. In the end, only three girls decided to opt out. Nina was the least surprising -- she was too shy and had never dared to be totally naked with us. However, I was very surprised that our prime exhibitionist, Gretchen, chose to leave -- and Linda echoed my surprise. It turned out that Gretchen had no problem at all with the required nudity but she was highly allergic against the thought of being a slave -- I wondered if she was wiser than me, and I was uncertain how I would manage that part. I soon found out -- Johanna presented 'Mistress Mona' and she terrified us. In a very short time we lost all our belongings, as well as the hair on our pussies and most of the hair on our heads. Linda was spanked until she was bawling like a baby, simply because she protested to have her hair cut, at first (She had the most glorious long blond hair I've ever seen, so I understand her protests.) Our mistress wasted no time to tell us 'a few basic rules' and it became terribly clear that we were slaves with no control at all of our lives. Later Joe-Anne was placed under My's control, and the native girl had Joe make love to her in the lobby. I was very aroused by the sight and was embarrassed that my bald crotch made my condition evident for anyone who cared to look -- it was easy to see my swollen inner lips and the fluids that were almost dripping from my pussy. My only consolation was that I shared my predicament with most of the others. We were then marched out like that to a hut by the beach and we were told that we had to spend four weeks there, sleeping on the ground. I had severe second thoughts that night and could hardly sleep but, for Karin's sake, I said little and decided to surmount my ordeal. *** The following days were filled with training and Mona drilled us hard. However, I lost my terror for her and found many of our exercises exhilarating. I think I have always been a slut -- at least since I became twelve and discovered sex for real. On the other hand, I had been forced to maintain a public persona that conformed to the common view of ladylike behaviour in our society. Of course, I did things, for example the centrefold in Fib-aktuellt, that probably made Mrs. Grundy conclude that I was a bad girl -- and other things, such as my soft-core flick, that would have branded me as a whore -- had she known about it. But on the whole, I was very careful to be discrete and never talk about my true feelings. Now, I could not only do outrageous things, such as public masturbation -- my mistress actually commanded us to do such things all the time. Moreover, we had great fun -- we laughed a lot and I noticed that Mona grew steadily more lenient. My only concern was Karin. As I have told you, she was generally more cautious than me -- but she was also sure of herself, resourceful, and a very open and positive person. Now she grew more withdrawn and she laughed less. She had nightmares and she often talked in her sleep -- she spoke Swedish but it was only unintelligible mumbles. Something obviously troubled her -- but she didn't want to talk about it. *** Ingrid opened her eyes and paused. "Well, Jenny -- it's getting late and you must decide if I should go on with my tale -- or if we should stop here and take care of your tutoring", she said and looked at the girl who was breathing heavily. "What a choice!" Jenny moaned, torn between curiosity and lust "...but OK...please tutor me, Granny slut." "Let's go to my bedroom then," Ingrid replied with a chuckle... Chapter 5 -- Ruth Jenny arrived early the next afternoon and she and Ingrid talked for a while before it was time for Ingrid to begin her tale. "Weren't you scared?" the girl asked. "If I had been in your place, I would have been terrified out of my mind." "Well..." Ingrid replied, "I was certainly apprehensive even before we arrived at Paradise Island and Bob's confirmation of my fears made it worse -- I was the victim of severely mixed feeling after that. And, needless to say, I was so terrified the first hours in Mona's clutches that I almost peed on the floor -- more than once. Jenny tittered at the idea of her fearless 'fairy grandmother' scared to that point and Ingrid smiled benevolently. "It's true, Jenny, I was scared witless -- but I grew less scared rapidly the first two days, and then I became almost euphoric instead. Everything was fine and I deemed that the rest of our training would be smooth sailing." Ingrid paused a moment, looking at Jenny, and then she continued. "However, I was wrong and our worst terror -- something that almost caused me to give up -- was Mona's cruel punishment of Ruth." "This is not a pretty tale, Jenny" she went on, "Are you sure you want to hear it?" "She wasn't killed -- Ruth I mean -- was she?" Jenny asked hesitantly. "No, my dear", Ingrid replied, "Ruth survived her punishment -- she didn't suffer any permanent harm -- but it was awful while it lasted." Jenny's mouth firmed; "in that case, I want to hear your scary tale," she answered. Ingrid nodded and began her tale... *** As I told you yesterday, Ruth was a girl full of spunk. She made up her mind to accept her contract the same evening, she wasn't shocked out of her mind by Mona's harsh treatment of us the first hours, and she was full of pep talk and cheered us up the first night when all others were scared and worried about the next day. She was a constant source of cheerful (and bawdy) remarks -- and she was the first to appreciate Mona's gradually lessening discipline. She joked most, she laughed most, and she was the most wonderfully shameless slut I've ever met. The day of Ruth's punishment (I think it was the fifth) started like the previous. Mona arrived at our camp after breakfast and we lined up in 'The First Position' -- that's with our legs wide apart, our hands on our backs, and our heads bowed. As you can imagine, that position left our private parts wide-open for her inspection -- and teasing -- she often teased us cruelly and left us standing on the very brink of orgasm. *** Jenny emitted a strangled moan -- her vivid imagination had no difficulty to picture the scene -- with herself standing in the line-up and waiting for the mistress to fondle her. Ingrid smiled amusedly and paused briefly for the girl to calm down a little. *** However, this time Mona's intentions were something else. After a cursory inspection and a few brief caresses, she told us that we should stand in this position and masturbate. We were to start and stop when she told us -- and we were not allowed to come until she gave us permission. *** A second moan from Jenny caused Ingrid to pause briefly again. *** I lost count on how many times Mona brought me to the point of no return -- only to call 'stop' at the last possible moment. I started to hate our cruel tormentress -- she seemed to have a sixth sense when to call 'stop' -- and she didn't show us any mercy at all. I was hornier than I had been in my whole life, I could barely breathe, my knees felt like mush, my whole body was aching for release, and my pussy was literally gushing fluids over my thighs. *** Jenny's moans became continuous and loader. Ingrid stopped talking and looked at the girl. She was lying with her legs wide apart and both hands buried in her pussy, totally oblivious of her surroundings. Finally, she came in a huge orgasm -- her sweat-drenched body shuddered and she shrieked on the top of her lungs. It took almost two minutes before she became aware that Ingrid had stopped talking and was watching her. Jenny blushed hotly, "Please forgive me, Ingrid", she pleaded, "Your tales are so damn hot that I couldn't help myself. Thank you for one of the best orgasms in my whole life!" "Take it easy, Jenny" Ingrid replied, "There is no reason to ask me to forgive you -- I'm not your mistress and I didn't forbid you to come." Then she continued her tale... *** Actually, I think it was very clever of you to do what you did, Jenny -- for now you understand how we felt -- and you can appreciate what Ruth did. She did the same thing you did just now -- she didn't heed Mona's command to stop but continued to masturbate until she came. She even jokingly thanked Mona for her wonderful orgasm -- just like you did. Mona's reaction took us all with a dreadful surprise. Instead of laughing at the girl's joke, she stared coldly at Ruth until the girl was trembling -- and then she gave her a terrible telling off, concluding with firing her and telling her to go to the guesthouse and pack. This unnerved Ruth completely -- she prostrated herself at Mona's feet and begged Mona to let her stay -- she would do anything. (I learned later why Ruth was so desperate to stay, but then it was confusing and terrifying to watch the girl debase herself like that) Mona looked at Ruth with a strange glint in her eyes -- a glint that felt like ice along my spine then, and which I can still remember as if yesterday. Mona commanded Ruth to remain in the exact spot until she came back -- and then she left us alone. Mona was gone for several hours and our apprehension made it seem even longer. We talked in hushed voices, wondering what would happen to Ruth when our mistress returned. The sun was moving in the sky, and the tree-shadows were also moving, exposing the spot where Ruth was lying to direct sunlight. She soon became hot and very thirsty. She didn't dare to move and we didn't dare to give her any water -- we were all terrified what our mistress would do if she found out. (Mona told us later that she never intended Ruth to lie for several hours in the sun but we didn't know that then.) When Mona, finally, returned Ruth was in a sad shape. Her throat was so dry that she could barely talk when she begged for water but Mona showed her no mercy. She told Ruth that she would get water later, but first she must hear her terms of punishment -- and I couldn't believe my ears when I heard them. Mona claimed that Ruth had acted like a bitch in heat and, therefore, should be treated like a bitch until she earned the right to be human again -- she had to crawl on all fours, eat and drink in bowls without using her hands, and -- worst of all -- she was not allowed to use the outhouse but we would 'take her on a walk to do her things'. As a final touch, Mona put a dog collar around Ruth's neck. Then she put a bowl of water in front of the poor girl and she had to lap it like a dog in front of all of us. My anger at Mona's unjust treatment of Ruth flared up and competed with my terror of my mistress. In the end, my terror won and I kept quiet, but I wanted to speak up -- I wanted to scream at Mona and force her to stop, I wanted to fight her regardless of the consequences -- and I felt like a heel because I didn't dare to do it. However, Mona talked with us in the evening, after leading Ruth a bit away from us. She let us release some steam at her -- Christine did that most eloquently -- and then she explained that she cared for Ruth and all of us. But, what Ruth did was such a severe break of discipline that, normally, the only reasonable response was to fire her. She said that Ruth saw our contract and our training as a big joke -- it wasn't, and Ruth's behaviour couldn't be tolerated. Mona had found out why Ruth was so desperate to stay and, with Bob's permission, she was giving the girl a second chance. The harsh treatment was necessary to 'shake Ruth to her core' and make her realized her mistake. Mona actually begged us to help her -- we should treat Ruth like a pet and 'welcome her back among the humans, once her punishment is over'. I was moved by Mona's speech but a nagging suspicion remained in my mind -- was this really the best way? -- it reminded me too much of my own treatment at the community pool, long ago. *** The next morning, we cooperated with Mona and treated Ruth like a pet. We prepared her food (not dog-food -- I don't think we could have agreed on that), we 'took her for walks', and we abused her with our teasing comments -- calling her 'our little pet', 'doggie doggie', 'bitchy girl', and similar epithets. I didn't participate actively, but I didn't speak up against it -- I was just as guilty as the others and I still felt like a heel. However, I was consoled when I saw that Ruth didn't give up -- she followed her degrading instructions to the letter, but her eyes shone with fighting spirit. Our training that day was in sign-language and it was fascinating. I was amazed how eloquent these signs could be -- but the sight of Ruth, sitting on her heels a bit apart, served as a chilly damper on my mood. Finally, the catastrophe happened. We continued with the signs after lunch and had been practicing masturbation by sign command for some time (I had approached orgasm at least three times) when Ruth started to act up. She whimpered once (as she had been instructed to do) to gain Mona's attention but Mona ignored her. Ruth whimpered one more time -- louder and more imploringly -- and Mona signed at us to stop, and then she turned to Ruth and told her not to bother her. I looked at Ruth and saw that she looked very uncomfortable, almost desperate, and I guessed that maybe she needed to go for a walk. However, to my lasting shame, I didn't do anything about it. It would have been an easy and safe thing to sign 'permission to speak?' to Mona when she turned back to us again -- Mona may have denied my request (she probably would) but she wouldn't have punished me for it -- and then I would at least have tried. As it was, we hadn't masturbated again for more than a few moments when Ruth couldn't hold it any longer. She was sitting in her own shit and her eyes looked completely dead -- no sign of any fighting spirit (or any spirit at all). Then, Mona started to tease Ruth about it and the others giggled hysterically. I didn't giggle -- didn't Mona realize that the girl was broken? -- maybe irrevocably. My anger flared again -- and this time it blew all other emotions away like dry autumn leaves in a storm. I don't know if there were any female baresarks among my Viking ancestors -- but at moment I would have qualified. I was naked and unarmed, but I was prepared to attack Mona and tear her to bloody pieces with my bare hands. The beginning of a war-cry was forming in my throat and my muscles tensed, but at that moment Mona turned looked at me -- maybe she felt the approach of Death. I met her gaze and my anger evaporated as fast as it had flared up -- leaving me shaky to the core of my being. For a brief instant, I looked into Mona's soul and I understood exactly how she felt about Ruth, and that she had misunderstood the situation at first. (If Mona noticed my furor, she made no sign of it and she never spoke about it later.) *** I was still shaky when Mona, a few moments later, put Ruth's leash in my hand and told me to help her clean herself. Ruth followed my like a robot with no initiatives on her own and I had to wash her like a baby. I started to become deeply concerned about Ruth -- had the shock blown her mind completely? Maybe, she would have to stay in a mental hospital for the rest of her life. I decided to throw my caution to the winds and bend Mona's order to suit me -- cleaning Ruth must include cleaning her mind as well as her body. Consequently, after the bath I led Ruth away from the camp, sat down beside her behind some bushes, took off the hateful collar, and embraced her tightly. I held her like that for a long time, talking quietly but earnestly to her. I told her that no matter what Mona had done to her, she was human and a worthy person. I told her that I loved her, exactly as she was -- and I continued to soothe her like that with words and hugs for and indeterminate time -- without any response from Ruth. Finally the dam burst and Ruth started to sob violently. I continued to hold her close and soothe her. After a while, Ruth's sobs subsided and she looked up at me. Her eyes were filled with tears but there was life in them again. "Thank you, Ingrid -- I love you too" she whispered. We sat embraced for a long time, and then I asked Ruth if she thought she could go back to the camp again and play her role. She nodded; "I must..." she replied quietly and put on the dog collar herself. I led her back to Mona and she took the leash and led Ruth to her hut, closing the door behind them. The others barraged me with questions -- what happened? -- is Ruth OK? -- do you think Mona will release her now? ... I tried to answer their questions but I felt drained emotionally and I soon said that I needed to sleep. Karin lay down beside me. "You were about to attack Mona, weren't you?" she asked quietly. "Yes, I was furious -- but then I understood her -- she loves us, Karin" I replied. "She has a strange way of showing it..." Karin answered -- and something in her voice made me uneasy. *** The next morning, I was disappointed to see Ruth crawling on all fours from Mona's hut -- and I wowed to myself that I would continue to bend Mona's rules and treat Ruth like a human being whenever I could get away with it. My chance came almost immediately -- after breakfast, I volunteered for the first time to 'take her on a walk' and as soon as we were out of sight from the others I released the leash. Then I told Ruth to go and do what she needed to. She looked very relieved to be able to take care of her needs in decent privacy -- when she came (walking) back she embraced me. "Thank you my love," she told me, "We must talk." We sat down behind a bush and Ruth told me about her conversation with Mona. "She wants something from me -- but I don't understand what," Ruth concluded. I thought furiously about it, trying to find the hidden solution. Ruth had told the mistress that she was sorry that she had broken the command to stop masturbating and that she would do her outmost to follow any orders in the future but that hadn't been enough -- so there was something else that Mona expected. Wait...Mona had stressed that our training was no joke -- could it be...? I wasn't certain -- and we had to go back to the camp. *** I continued to mull over my idea and it seemed more and more plausible. It must be Ruth's joking thanks for her orgasm that was the culprit. Linda didn't make any joke when she was punished -- and Mona had told Ruth to think about their different behaviour. It was obvious -- Mona wanted Ruth to apologize for the joke. However, there were severe distractions that prevented me to take Ruth aside for a talk. Mona inspected us and said that we had to remove our pubic hair, which started to grow out again. She introduced a scandalous depilatory cream and told us to put it on (I helped Ruth with it). The cream was efficient enough but it had a side effect -- my pussy tingled and almost made me mad with desire. I had a few moments alone with Ruth when we rinsed off the cream (and hair) in the sea but none of us were in shape for a talk and we had to return to the others. Thus, I only told Ruth that I had an inkling of the missing thing -- I would tell her the next time we had privacy for a talk. My chance to tell Ruth came when we left our camp for a trip to the medical clinic. Shortly before we came to the main village path, I asked Mona to be allowed to take Ruth 'for a walk'. I think that Mona suspected my intentions -- but I'm certain that she wanted Ruth to come clear, so she gave me her permission readily enough. As soon as we were far enough from the others to talk, we sat down and I told Ruth about my insight. Ruth looked incredulous but she gradually warmed to the idea. "I wonder if Mona wasn't a slavegirl herself once," she mused. "That would explain a few things about her that I find strange... Hmm... Ok, I will try it... just give me two minutes to compose an apology in this line..." We went back to the others and Ruth apologized for her joke. Bingo! Two seconds later she wasn't a bitch anymore -- and then Mona apologized to us. Her fault was that she often took her self too seriously, and that she, therefore, had treated us unnecessarily harshly. Linda continued alone to the village (and found some adventure of the unpleasant sort, more about that later) and we others returned to the camp. Once there, Mona told us about her life. Ruth was right -- Mona had been a slavegirl for several years before her third master recognized that she was dominant and helped her to become a mistress. She was actually training submissive girls as slavegirls professionally -- but unlike us, these girls didn't become slaves for money but because they felt a need to submit. She told us that Lisa and Bob had approached her and she had agreed to train us. She was well aware of our backgrounds -- that we weren't submissive and that our training only was intended to give us the necessary background to play our roles as Bob's slavegirls (Bob wasn't a true Dom any more than we where submissive) -- but she had fallen into her customary wheel-tracks once our training began. Then she explained that she wouldn't use her 'strict' rules again unless they were a necessary part of our role. "The strict rules will be solely for show from now on -- let's be friends instead. If any of you have any questions, and you can ask them without breaking your roles to outsiders, don't hesitate to ask them. I will answer all your questions, and I will try to explain in advance why I think you need various parts of the training", she concluded. *** "And that concludes my tale of Ruth's punishment", Ingrid said and poured herself a glass of wine. "Aw, Granny!" Jenny protested. "You cannot stop like this. What happened to Ruth? -- You must tell me that, at least." "Oh, well..." Ingrid replied. "Ruth was a spunky girl and she recovered fully from her ordeal -- she served her full term as slavegirl and we became lovers -- she was my maid of honour at my wedding. She returned to New Zealand but we kept in touch and she visited Paradise Island several times later", Ingrid concluded. "Oh, I'm so happy for Ruth," Jenny said with a sunny smile. "Do you think I'm like her?" she asked eagerly. "Yes, Jenny. You're a spunky girl too -- and I bet that you're almost as great a slut as she was," Ingrid replied with a chuckle. "What do you say, Jenny? Shall we continue with some slutty tutoring?" she asked. <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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