Gwendolyn
Copyright© 2026 by yfnsp
Chapter 8: Exposed & Punished
Saturday dawned overcast and a little gloomy on the stairway landing at Gwendolyn’s door where I awoke. I had to pee.
Gwendolyn had given me permission to stay overnight for the first time.
“But you’ll have to stay out on the landing,” was her edict. “I’ve got an extra blanket you can use,” she added magnanimously.
It didn’t occur to me to complain. I was glad I didn’t have to get dressed and drive back to sleep in my dorm room. But now I was cold - my clothes were on the other side of the door - and I had to pee. I didn’t think the door was locked, but it hardly seemed appropriate to open it without permission, nor did I feel it was my place to knock. That would be awfully presumptuous, wouldn’t it? I thought, as if Gwendolyn were at my beck and call.
The thought of her asleep all snug in bed while I waited at her pleasure aroused my already semi-erect cock. That helped a little, both to hold in my pee and to warm me. But after a few minutes I became anxious again. There was no telling how soon she would rouse herself. We had decided not to do our morning runs on weekends and, besides, she was probably worn out from so much cumming that night.
Thinking like that had me diamond-hard, but I needed bladder relief urgently. I did not want an accident. I was getting terribly wiggly.
Finally, I went down the stairs and carefully opened the door to the veranda. I peeked around the door in both directions, and seeing no one in sight, I ventured out into the chilly morning air, making sure the door was unlocked. I didn’t want to be stuck outside naked. I sneaked to the back yard and peed onto the flower bed at the corner of the house. I made it back without being seen; at least I hadn’t seen anyone. What a relief!
I could hear Gwendolyn moving about as I waited. I folded the blanket and sat down on it, idly playing with my erection as I tried to imagine Gwendolyn’s movements from the sounds she was making. When she opened the door to let me in, she looked fresh and radiant in a sleeveless tee and a cute pair of denim shorts.
“C’mon, Mike, get your clothes on. We’re going to eat at the dining hall and you need to shower and change first. Are you hungry? I’m famished!”
As we approached the steps to the driveway, the homeowner, a large, grey-haired woman in faded jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, stepped out onto the porch.
“Morning, Gwen,” she said cheerfully. “Could I have word before you go?”
“Sure, Marti,” Gwen smiled back. Her nipples were hard points against her shirt in the morning chill.
“Mike, this is Dr. Metzler, Martha Metzler, my landlady.” She turned back to Martha. “Mike is my boyfriend!” she said proudly.
“Hi,” I said, reaching out to shake hands.
She nodded to me politely, but held up the steaming coffee mug in her right hand.
She addressed Gwendolyn. “That’s what I want to talk about. Do you know that your ‘boyfriend’ was out peeing on my flowers this morning?” She raised an admonishing eyebrow like a disappointed teacher.
Gwendolyn looked astonished. “Really?” She glanced at my mortified expression and giggled.
“Was he naked?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” Marti replied, “and shamelessly displaying an erect penis. He had some trouble pointing it down to pee.” It was evident hat she was enjoying this, both the telling and observing my flushed reaction.
“Mike!” Gwendolyn said sharply. “Is this true?” Her tone and my humiliation made my cock pulse and leak in my underwear.
“Yes, Gwendolyn,” I replied, hanging my head in a show of contrition I didn’t feel. I wanted this buxom older woman to know our secrets. “I had to pee and I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Well that’s alright,” she said approvingly. “But you can’t just pee on other people’s flowers,” she added frowning.
“But I didn’t,” I said “I peed around the flowers. On the mulch.”
Both women looked at me. They were trying not to laugh.
Marti turned to Gwendolyn. “I don’t understand.” She sounded curious and intrigued. “Why was he naked? And why couldn’t he use the toilet?”
Gwendolyn sighed. “Well, he was naked because he’s not allowed to wear clothes in my house. And he wanted to stay overnight so I made him sleep on the landing.”
“Well, it certainly sounds like you have an interesting relationship!” the elderly woman said brightly. “I want to hear more. Where are you headed now?”
“To Mike’s dorm and then to breakfast,” Gwendolyn said.
“Why don’t you join us? We haven’t had breakfast yet and Janie loves company. I’ll just tell her to make extra. Pancakes okay?”
“Sure! Yes, thanks!” Gwendolyn answered for both of us. “We have time.” I didn’t need to be at work until eleven.
“Good,” said Marti, ushering us to the door. “And then there’s the matter of Mike’s punishment.”
“I suppose...” Gwendolyn said thoughtfully as we followed. “I’ve never punished him before.”
“Janie!,” Marti shouted, “We have guests, dear. They’re staying for breakfast.”
“Oh! Okay.”
I turned toward the sound of that musical voice and caught a glimpse of a neat pair of bare legs retreating up the stairs.
Marti led us into the roomy kitchen and bade us sit at the table.
“Really? You’ve never punished him?” she asked with genuine surprise. “Not even a spanking?”
She took two mugs down from a cupboard, divided the remaining coffee in the carafe between them and set them before us.
“Well, no,” Gwendolyn replied frankly. “We’ve only been together three days,” she explained. “And he’s such a good boy!” She smiled at me with something like pride. “He’s been wonderful.”
Gwendolyn’s tone and her smile were not lost on Marti, who was refilling the coffeemaker.
“That’s so sweet,” she said, sounding a bit condescending. “I just assumed you were into the lifestyle.”
Gwendolyn was quick to respond. “We have a female-led relationship. But I’m not into all that BDSM stuff.” She gave me a reassuring smile.
I smiled back, but I was nonetheless intrigued by Marti’s point of view.
“Ah, here she is,” Marti said, turning toward the entryway. “My wife, Janie.”
Janie was really pretty, in a mature womanly way, probably in her late thirties or early forties. She wore a simple floral-print housedress made elegant by the belt tied around her slim waist, accentuating her tight curves above and below. She was lightly but expertly made up with lipstick and eyeliner that emphasized her femininity. Her dark auburn hair flowed stylishly over her shoulders.
“You know Gwen, of course,” Marti was saying. “This is her boyfriend, Mike.”
“Hi!” Janie chirped. “How nice of you to join us. I was just going to make breakfast ... We always have pancakes on Saturday. Is that okay?”
“Oh, yes that sounds great,” said Gwendolyn. “Thank you so much!”
“It was Mike in the yard this morning,” Marti informed her wife.
“Why ever did he do it?” she asked, amused.
“Well, he was apparently in difficult circumstances because of Gwen’s strict orders.”
There was genuine mirth in Janie’s voice when she said, “Oh, that’s so neat! I knew there was something special about Gwen. I told you there was!”
“Yes, but I thought that it was just because she’s so pretty.”
Janie had started taking out implements and assembling ingredients. She addressed Gwendolyn over her shoulder. “Do you keep him naked all the time?”
I found it oddly arousing to spoken of, rather than to, as if my point of view were irrelevant. Being objectified by all these females.
“Well, yes, when he’s in my home, he has to be,” said Gwendolyn. And seeing the exchange of looks between the ladies, she posed a query of her own.
“Why? Do you have rules like that too?”
Marti answered, “I make the rules. Janie is a submissive and needs to be under my absolute control. And, yes she isn’t allowed to wear clothes when we’re home together. Except panties. She has to wear panties. When she’s not in bed. Tell them why, Janie.”
Janie blushed. “I leak,” she said. “My pussy is always wet when I’m with my mistress. She doesn’t want me to ruin her furniture.”
“Are you wet now?” Gwendolyn asked. I was so proud of her. So bold. Outspoken.
“Yes, miss,” Janie said, her eyes lowered. She blushed.
“My! You really are submissive.”
I could tell Gwendolyn was intrigued.
“Come over here and let me see,” Gwendolyn said, assuming a natural dominance over this pretty lady who was old enough to be her mother.
“Just hold on,” Martha’s voice of authority interrupted. “Finish cooking breakfast and serve your guests,” she commanded.
To Gwendolyn, she said, “We can resume this conversation after we’ve eaten. We also have the subject of your boyfriend’s punishment to discuss.”
“Okay,” Gwendolyn smiled. “Tell me your story first. I mean, you put me through an interview before renting to me. I want to know about you too.”
I don’t know how Gwendolyn did that. Marti was pretty intimidating. To me she was, anyway. Awesome and intimidating.
“So, how did you two meet?” Gwendolyn prodded.
And Marti acceded. While Janie worked at the stove, making four batches of pancakes and putting stacks of them in the oven to keep warm, Marti told her tale as the three of us sat at the kitchen table with our coffees. By the time Janie had everything served and joined us to eat, Gwendolyn and I had been regaled with a fascinating love story.
“Janie was an undergraduate when we first met. I was completing my PhD and was TA for a class she was in. I was in my late forties, recently divorced and not interested in girls at all, but I remember how pretty she was and how shy, and I was flattered that she had a crush on me.
“That was almost twenty years ago,” she added as an aside. “I was a real MILF back then and I had to shoot down a lot of flirtatious kids. I wasn’t dating anyone, but I was exploring my dominant side and joined a BDSM club.
“Then, in grad school, a couple of year later, she started flirting with me again. I was on the faculty, but not in her area, so she wasn’t off limits, and I had discovered by then that I was undeniably bi. I liked dominating women just as much as men. In some ways, more. I was into control more than B&D and I really liked making girls do tings that...
She smiled and shrugged, sidestepping a rabbit hole.
“Janie was so eager to get me to like her. And I couldn’t resist toying with her. And it turned me on to push her buttons. I would make her undress for me in my office - gosh, she was pretty - and masturbate. And in public places. She used to get so frantic - humiliated and aroused. It was adorable. And I taught how to eat pussy exactly how I like it.
“I took her to the BDSM meetups to show her off. I made her my pet - naked, collared and leashed - she loved it, displaying her sexy body, something she would never have dared to do. So being my sub really freed her. She was very popular - we, as a couple, were - but things changed and I didn’t want to share her with anyone. So we stopped going.
“When I bought the house, eleven years ago, I brought her with me.” She smiled. “I told her I needed a house pet. And she became much more than that, doing all the housework and treating me like a queen. She asked me to make her my slave. She wanted to quit her job - she was teaching high school English - and belong to me completely.
“That’s when I realized I was in love with her. When I admitted it to myself. I had been for years. So, two years ago, I married her. She vowed to obey and to serve me, to love, honor, and keep me. And she has. I’ve never known anyone so obedient.”
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