4 comments/ 22941 views/ 5 favorites Anna's Dream By: Serafina1210 Author's note: A few weeks ago, my friend Anna, a consensual slave, told me about a dream that had upset her. I thought it would make a good story, but (as often happens with dreams) she had woken up just as events were coming to a crisis. I asked her how she thought the dream would have gone on if she'd dreamed it to the end, and she suggested three different endings. But I thought her three endings sounded more like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle than like three separate stories, and if fitted together they'd complete the dream beautifully. Part 1 of this story, then, is Anna's dream, which I have retold; Parts 2 and 3 are my continuation of the dream, loosely based on Anna's suggested endings. Tags: Slave, Display, Humiliation, Bondage, Flogging, Toys, Straight sex, Lesbian sex, Gay Male (brief), Slave auction. ***** 1 "Beautiful," he said, as the big yacht slid alongside our smaller one. I wasn't sure whether he was talking about the yacht, a magnificent eighty-footer, or the naked Slave Girl standing by the gunwale holding a mooring line. As the yacht slowed, she threw me the line, and I slipped it over a bollard. Water gleamed on Master's tan, muscular body. I was wet too - I felt the cool on my skin. I know why: we'd spent the afternoon swimming - frolicking in the warm, clear water off the green and white shore of this island paradise, diving off the boat, laughing and splashing. We spotted the yacht the moment we climbed out, even before I'd run to get Master a towel. It was as if it had been waiting for us to finish our play before looming up out of nowhere and gliding alongside. Not sure who was coming to visit, I whispered, "Master, may I dress?" "No," he snapped. "I told you to stay naked when you're on the yacht. It's disobedient even to ask." His anger stung me. I hadn't yet had a chance to wear the little clothing he'd let me pack - the thong bottom, scarcely big enough to cover the private place that was only for him, and the mesh top. The outfit was designed to display rather than hide Master's property, and yet it was much better than nothing. He'd told me I'd be allowed wear it on land, but this was just the first day of our three-week cruise, and we hadn't been ashore even once. The Slave Girl's Mistress came out on the deck of the big yacht. She was in her thirties and beautiful, pale and redheaded, dressed in a skimpy T and a thong bottom. Even though I was standing behind Master and couldn't see his face, I could sense that he wanted her. The Slave Girl, who was very like me in coloring, shape, and stature, went to stand behind her Mistress: now I could see that she was wearing a collar and wrist and ankle cuffs. Mistress called, "Permission to come aboard and welcome you to the islands?" "Come aboard!" Master called. Mistress leapt easily over the space between the two yachts. As she was shaking hands with Master, the Slave Girl made the leap too, landing just behind her. Master turned to me and said, "Go get some snacks and drinks for our guest," and I hurried off to the galley. As I bustled about, putting chips, salsa, guacamole, and nuts into bowls, I could hear Mistress's pleasant, cultivated voice. "You have a lovely slave. Such a firm, shapely body - flawless skin - her tan complements her blond hair perfectly." Master said, "I work hard to keep her in good condition. I believe it's important not to overfeed, and of course I allow no junk food of any kind - also no alcohol or soft drinks. As for the tan, she wears no clothing at home; she tans naked in the backyard for precisely a half hour each day when it's sunny. I'm allowing her more while on this cruise." "Very wise," said Mistress. "My Girl here gets a strictly vegan diet and is permitted no clothing at all. She never goes ashore, so she has no call for it." By this time I was carrying the bowls of chips and salsa to the deck, where the two of them were relaxing on the benches while the Slave Girl stood off to one side. Mistress said, "May I examine your slave?" "Feel free," Master said. He commanded me to stand in the middle of the deck and put my hands behind my neck so my back would arch and my firm breasts stand out. Mistress circled me slowly, feeling my bottom, stomach, and breasts. "Lovely," she said. "I notice, though, that she has welts on her buttocks - from a cane, if I'm not mistaken. It's a pity to mark such beautiful skin, but of course discipline is of paramount importance." "Yes," Master said. "She was perfectly docile when I acquired her, but in recent months she's become unruly, misbehaved, disobedient, and disrespectful. Here's a case in point. How long ago did I send her for food? And she's only now bringing it! Last night she practically demanded to be taken to a restaurant, and when I ordered her to make us dinner at home, she sulked and served it late, with my steak overdone. That's how she got this particular set of welts - but it's rare that we pass more than a few days without her forcing me to apply some kind of discipline." What he was saying was unfair. I hadn't demanded anything - I'd asked timidly, and I hadn't said anything at all when he'd refused. The lateness and overdone steak had been the kind of accident that could happen to anyone - I'd gotten distracted by a phone call from my mother. I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it again: I'd just prove his point if I spoke up. "Your program of discipline seems not to be working," said Mistress, giving me a severe glance, as if she'd known what I wanted to say, "and yet my experience has been that it is quite possible to correct the kind of bad attitude you've been describing. Re-training is likely to be arduous and painful when a slave has been getting off track for some months - but it certainly can be done." "I'd welcome your advice on that score," said Master. He stood and came over to me: now both he and Mistress were circling me, staring at my naked body and touching me here and there, as if they were talking about a horse or a dog. I was blushing furiously, intensely embarrassed and very naked. Master said, "Her body is so lovely, and she's so accomplished sexually, I really would like to salvage her, even though she's far from satisfactory in nearly every other way. Her blowjobs are indescribable. And look at this pussy! Spread your legs, babe." I moved my feet about a foot apart, and he reached between my legs and parted my cleft. "I've never seen a finer one - lips long, smooth, and a luscious pink - and she gets wet so quickly when I touch her." He moved aside so Mistress could have a closer look. She bent down and parted my labia with two thumbs. "You should require her to be wet all the time," she said. "It's intolerable to be made to wait for sex." She put out a hand and pinched my clit hard, making me squeak. "And she needs to be taught silence," she added. "Yes," said Master. "Noise like that is a kind of protest." Mistress said, "You must not tolerate such acts of rebellion." She glanced at the Slave Girl, who'd been standing off to the side, watching with interest, and said, "Come here, Girl," motioning her to a spot next to me. "Put your hands behind your neck," said Mistress. The Slave Girl instantly did as she'd been told, standing with her legs a little apart, breasts high, nipples erect and hard, pointing proudly outward. "Touch her pussy," said Mistress. Master stepped up to the Girl and slid a finger into her cleft. "She's wet," he said. Mistress said, "I require that she be ready for penetration at every moment. Now see this." I looked on as Mistress sharply twisted the Girl's nipples, evoking no response. She gave the Girl's pussy a hard spank, but the Girl didn't flinch and made no sound. "Would you like to try her?" Mistress asked. Master slapped the Girl's face, leaving behind red finger-marks, but she scarcely moved. "Very impressive," he said. "But I notice that she also has welts on her bottom. What malefactions earned her those?" "She's perfectly behaved at all times," said Mistress. "But slaves have such short memories, they're apt to forget their condition. I whip this one regularly to keep her from forgetting her place. Indeed, I whip all my slaves regularly, since doing so is both useful and pleasurable." "Ah," said Master. "I can see I have much to learn from you." "Why don't you come with me to my boat?" said Mistress. "We'll have something to eat and drink there, and we'll discuss this matter further." "Thank you," said Master. Abandoning the chips and salsa I'd brought out, we followed Mistress onto her boat, which appeared to be deserted, despite its size. She led us onto a deck with benches all around and said, "Make everybody comfortable, Girl." The Girl took Master's hand and led him to a seat. I was about to sit beside him when she said, "You stand there," pointing to a spot in the middle of the deck, under a pair of cuffs that dangled from the end of a steel cable. The cable passed through a ring at the end of a white boom, and from there led to a winch mounted on the wall of the cabin. She said, "Hold out your hands, please," and when I did so, she attached the cuffs to my wrists. Then she went over to the winch and wound it so tight I had to stand on my toes with my back arched, my breasts prominent and my nipples erect. Mistress said, "Her legs are closed. You mustn't allow that. It's very bad form for a slave girl ever to close her legs. They must always be at least shoulder breadth apart. Correct her stance, Girl." The Slave Girl bent down and pulled my legs apart: looking down, I saw her steal a hungry glance at my pussy as she stood up again. Now instead of standing on tiptoe, I could just barely touch the floor with the sides of my big toes. My tummy was pulled in tight, and I must have looked obscene with my legs spread so wide. "You see," said Mistress, "now her pussy is open, visible, and instantly available for your own use or that of your friends." Master stared at me thoughtfully, and then at the Slave Girl, who was standing nearby with her legs apart. Mistress said, "Go and get us food and drink, Girl." The Girl ran off and was back almost instantly with a tray of grapes, cheeses, crackers, and assorted vegetables. I wondered how she managed to do it so quickly, and Master murmured, "Excellent slave." Mistress sent her slave for cushions, for a top for herself (since the sun was getting low), and on various other errands, and she performed them all with miraculous speed - but she gave me the same hungry look every time she came back. Neither her Mistress nor my Master noticed: they were too busy talking about my body. By the time the Slave Girl was done with her chores, they'd examined my teeth and my finger- and toenails, had discussed the best way to keep my mound bare (I'd been shaving, but Mistress recommended waxing - "Painful, but that doesn't signify"), and had debated whether my hair should be shortened ("Less trouble," said Mistress) or allowed to grow longer ("More fun to pull," said Master). By the time the Slave Girl had finished her last errand, Mistress was talking to Master about how to keep my pussy always wet. "Plenty of fluids, of course, and you should stimulate her whenever you happen to be with her," said Mistress, demonstrating by sliding my hood back and giving my clit a brisk rub, making me squirm. "Frequent whipping also helps to keep a slave girl wet - which is another reason to be liberal with the whip. Go to the gunwale, Girl." The Slave Girl went to the gunwale and held onto a handrail, bent at the waist, legs far apart and toes turned in so her pussy and ass were clearly visible to all of us. Mistress pulled a whip from under a bench - it was like a bullwhip, but shorter. "Now watch," said Mistress, and gave the Girl a slashing blow across her right ass cheek. The Girl hardly stirred, but said, "Thank you, Mistress." Mistress now whipped the Girl's left cheek, and she said "Thank you, Mistress," again. Mistress continued until she'd delivered five blows to either side of the Girl's open ass, receiving a thank you each time, though by the end the Girl's knuckles were white, and she was thanking her Mistress through clenched teeth. "That's all, Girl," said Mistress. The Girl turned around, sank to her knees, and said, "I thank you with all my heart, Mistress, for doing me the honor of making use of my bottom for my improvement and your pleasure." Mistress held out the whip, and the Girl kissed it. "You may sit on the floor, Girl," said Mistress. The Girl sat on the deck and stared at me - at my face, breasts, pussy, and legs. Her obvious hunger for me was making me uncomfortable, and I hoped this visit would be over soon. While the Girl stared, Master and Mistress talked quietly: I paid little attention to them. The doings of free people are not all that interesting to slaves, even when they're talking about us, as they often are. We can't influence what they do with us, so why take the trouble to listen to their talk? The sun was low on the horizon now, and a cool breeze was raising goosebumps all over my body. Finally Master and Mistress stood up and shook hands. He came to me, kissed me on the lips, and said, "This lady is going to do you a very great favor. She's going to take you over for the remainder of our cruise and re-train you." My insides were icing up with terror. "No, Master!" I cried. "Please don't leave me!" Master shrugged at Mistress and said, "You see what I've been dealing with? She contradicts me at every turn." "I promise," said Mistress, "when you get her back she'll never contradict you again." "Master, please!" I begged. "Meanwhile," said Mistress, "my Slave Girl will stay with you while this one is with me. That way you needn't go without sex - and she'll also show you how a good slave behaves. Once yours is returned to you, she'll be exactly as docile as this one, and as eager to serve. Promise me you won't neglect to whip her daily," she continued. "I want her to be in the right frame of mind when you return her. Lack of regular discipline will make even the best of slaves unruly." "Oh, yes, I'll whip her," said Master, looking at her wolfishly and flexing his fingers. I struggled to free myself from my cuffs. "You can't leave me here, Master!" I cried. "Take me with you, Master!" But he was already climbing over the gunwale with the Slave Girl. On the other side now, they turned back to us. Mistress called, "He's your Master now, Girl - I'm giving you to him! Make sure to please him." With that, the Girl took the mooring line off the bollard and tossed it over so it landed with a slap on the deck of the big yacht. Then she turned to Master, sank to her knees, wrenched down his swimsuit, and closed her mouth around his cock. "Master!" I wailed. "I love you! I can't live without you!" But it was as if he couldn't hear me: he was staring at his thick, hard shaft sliding between the pink and shapely lips of the beautiful Slave Girl. The two yachts drifted apart; I heard the engine start up in the stern and felt its thrum in the deck under my toes. "Master!" I cried. "She's going to torture me! She's going to kill me!" "Be quiet, slave," said Mistress. "Master!" I shrieked - an anguished, despairing wail. The whip cracked, and Mistress delivered a slashing blow across my belly. "Quiet, slave!" she hissed. "Master!" I screamed again, and received another blow. I screamed and screamed, my body twisting, feet scrabbling for purchase on the smooth wooden deck, as she struck me again and again. On the other boat, now some fifty feet away, Master seized the Girl's head and thrust into her mouth, hard and deep, body convulsing with pleasure. When he was spent, they both turned to watch my flogging. The Girl gazed into my eyes and let my Master's cum ooze from the corners of her mouth, over her chin, and onto her breasts. She smiled at me. I was still screaming, but no longer calling for Master. Instead I was screaming with pain, incoherently, over and over as Mistress whipped me. She didn't stop till Master's yacht was out of sight and my belly, breasts, and thighs were crisscrossed with welts. When she was done, I sagged in my cuffs, my body sweaty: the evening breeze cooled my hot, raw skin. I sobbed, "I want my Master." "Foolish slave," said Mistress. "You're mine now. I will train you to be a good slave, and you'll do precisely as I say. If you don't, I promise you'll never see your Master again. Nobody has any use for a disobedient slave." She went below. As night fell, I sobbed, feeling very naked and vulnerable, without clothing or money or any way to escape, not knowing if Master loved me or wanted me back. The moon rose and traveled most of the way across the sky before I finally fell asleep, hanging from the boom on the deck under the indifferent stars. 2 I was awakened by a burning stripe of pain across my buttocks. I opened my eyes and saw Mistress holding the whip. She had with her two Slave Boys, just eighteen or nineteen years old. One had fair skin and light brown hair, and the other was jet black. Both were naked except for collars and cuffs; both were pretty, with slender bodies, hairless except for their heads; both had erections. I looked around. We were out on a calm green sea, with no land in sight and no other boats. Master was far away. "Black Boy! White Boy! Take her down!" said Mistress. The Slave Boys freed me from the cuffs, and Mistress said, "You may urinate and defecate in the bucket." She pointed to a bucket near the gunwale. She and the Slave Boys stared while I squatted over the bucket. It was difficult to go with people watching, but I distracted myself by wondering whether the Slave Boys' penises were erect because they were required to be or because they were turned on by my naked body. Perhaps a little of both, I thought. Mistress made me empty the bucket over the side when I was finished. Next I had to stand under the boom again, and Mistress supervised while the Slave Boys fitted me with a harness that consisted of a belt, two straps that passed between my legs on either side of my pussy, a sort of bra without cups that merely outlined my breasts, and straps that attached the bra to the belt below and went over my shoulders above. The Slave Boys worked silently, but they grinned at me and fondled my breasts, bottom, and pussy. Mistress seemed not to notice. When the Slave Boys were done with the harness, they put cuffs on my wrists and ankles. Mistress put the collar on me herself - a plain black leather collar, which she locked with a little silver padlock. "Lie down," she said. The Slave Boys attached my cuffs to recessed rings in the floor. Mistress said, "Your training begins now. I have four goals for you. First, your pussy must always be wet. Second, it must always be open and ready for service. Third, you must comply with all instructions, without hesitation or comment. Fourth, you must not complain about any discipline I mete out, or indeed about anything at all. Do not forget that you are mine to use in any way that pleases me." Now the Slave Boys inserted a dildo vibrator in my pussy; attached to it was a smaller vibrator, like a little branch, that pressed against my clit, and rings that attached to the harness to keep it from slipping out of me. Next they used clips to attach my inner lips to the harness, stretching them and keeping my cleft wide open (as if the vibrator hadn't already stretched me enough). Finally they attached wired clips to my nipples: the wires trailed out of sight somewhere. "This deck will be your home, except when I have some other duty for you to perform," said Mistress. Anna's Dream "Mistress - " I began. She said, "I do not accept questions or suggestions. The Slave Boys will feed you breakfast." She left, and the White Boy ran off on some errand while the Black Boy squatted by me and fondled my clit. "Please stop that," I said. He said, "Mistress tol' me to." But he seemed to be enjoying himself as well. The White Boy returned with a bowl of oatmeal, which he proceeded to spoon into my mouth while the Black Boy continued to play with my pussy. The oatmeal was unsweetened and without milk. It was hard to get it down, but I was very hungry and grateful for the nourishment. When the oatmeal was gone, the White Boy took over the task of playing with my pussy while the Black Boy offered me a water bottle with a sort of built-in straw, which I drank from greedily. Then they both left me. I lay there and watched the sun climb higher in the sky. I wondered where my Master was and whether he was happy having sex with his substitute slave. After a little while the vibrator turned on - both the vaginal and clitoral parts. If the vibrator was adjustable, it was probably on low, and yet the stimulation was intense, and it made me writhe and whine. "No noise," said Mistress's voice from some hidden speaker, and there was a severe jolt of pain in my nipples - she must have activated an electrical device attached to my nipple clamps. I forced myself to be silent, and soon both the nipple clamps and the vibrator were turned off. The sun climbed higher. It was hot on my skin, and I broke out in a sweat. There was no breeze here; I was very uncomfortable. I wanted to cry, but I forced myself not to, not wanting to be shocked. Soon the vibrator was turned on again - just the clitoral vibrator this time, but on high, making me shriek with the sudden stimulation. As soon as I did, the nipple clamps were turned on again, then off, three times - three jolts of pain. Angry with myself for making noise and bringing on the pain, I clenched my teeth and made fists, forcing myself to be still and quiet in spite of the vibrator and the clamps. This went on all morning - sometimes it was the vaginal vibrator, sometimes the clitoral one, sometimes both. After a while I no longer cried out, but I couldn't keep myself from reacting in some way - squirming or thrashing, or whining down in my throat - and then the nipple clamps were turned on. Sometimes the Slave Boys came to watch, squatting down below my legs, staring at my pussy as I writhed, and sometimes leaning in to rub or pinch my clit. When the sun was directly overhead I was allowed to sit up and feed myself some bread and water while the Slave Boys kept an eye on me to make sure I didn't try to remove the clamps or vibrators. They laughed and commented while I used the bucket, and then cuffed me to the floor again. The afternoon went on exactly as the morning had done, with the vibrators coming on at irregular intervals and the clamps delivering punishment when I reacted. For dinner I was given a little pile of cold green beans along with the bread and water, and then the Slave Boys removed the clamps and vibrators and led me to Mistress's cabin. She was standing in the middle of the floor, naked except for a studded leather belt, and holding the whip again. I tried not to cry looking at it, but I couldn't help myself - my eyes teared up and a little sniffle escaped me. It wasn't the whip, really - it was being abandoned by my Master. The Slave Boys dragged an exercise bench out to the middle of the floor. "Face down on the bench," said Mistress, and I lay on the bench, legs on either side, exposed and vulnerable. "Five lashes on each side," said Mistress, "as a precaution. You may thank me after each one." Mistress whipped me exactly as she'd whipped the Slave Girl the day before, alternating ass cheeks. I thanked her, though I didn't feel grateful. I couldn't suppress my tears as the Girl had done, and that displeased Mistress. She added two more lashes as punishment for the tears, and after it was done I knelt, thanked her, and kissed the whip. She whipped each of the Slave Boys then. They accepted their whipping in silence, thanked their Mistress, and kissed the whip as she smiled at them approvingly. I was envious both of their stoic silence and of the smiles Mistress gave them. Mistress said, "These boys have worked hard on your behalf, slave, and you owe them thanks for that." "Thank you, boys," I said. "Words are cheap," said Mistress, "and I can tell yours aren't sincere. You may give them oral pleasure. First my Black Boy, since he worked harder today, and then my White Boy." I hesitated. The Slave Boys were pretty, but I didn't like the way they'd been laughing and grinning at me all day, and I wasn't used to being ordered to perform sex acts on strangers. The Black Boy stood in front of me, smiling widely and holding his cock in his hand. The White Boy, standing behind me, pushed me to my knees so I was staring directly at the Black Boy's cock. "What are you waiting for, slave?" Mistress demanded. My face was hot - but a slave gets used to having little privacy - and what choice did I have? Besides, the Black Boy's cock was pretty - smooth, slender, and deep black. I took it in my hand and slid the foreskin back, revealing the purple head, moist and appetizing. I leaned forward and let it slide into my mouth. Mistress, who was now lounging on her bed, idly fingering her pussy, delivered a running commentary and issued instructions. "Your technique is poor," she said. "Look him in the eye and take him deeper." I did as she instructed, letting him fill my mouth up with his warm flesh. "White Boy!" she ordered, "check to make sure her pussy is wet and open." The White Boy crouched behind me and slid a finger into me. "Yes, Mistress," he said. "Good," she said. "You must learn to keep yourself in a constant state of arousal so that you'll be prepared for service at any time." I was in no position to reply, so I just went on with what I was doing. "You may come, Black Boy," said Mistress, and within seconds he came in my mouth, scarcely moving or even breathing hard. "Swallow it," said Mistress. "A slave must always swallow the cum." I swallowed it. It tasted different from Master's cum - I couldn't quite place how. "Now do the same for White Boy," said Mistress. This time no one had to force me - it wasn't that I was more eager to suck the White Boy's cock, but I was more accepting of my powerlessness. And he was just as pretty as the Black Boy - the head of him pink and sweet, with a drop of clear pre-cum already quivering at the end. I pleasured him the same way I had the other, this time making fewer mistakes and thus drawing less comment. "We'll work on depth," said Mistress as she watched, "but you're learning fairly quickly, for a slave." The White Boy came with a huge violent gush, and I lost a little of it from the corner of my mouth. "Not good," said Mistress. She laid me over the bench again and gave me two lashes on each ass cheek. She said, "One for hesitating to suck Black Boy, and one for losing White Boy's cum." I managed to endure this punishment with little whining and squirming, so she added only one more. "I was thinking of allowing you to pleasure me," said Mistress, "but it seems to me that you have not yet earned that reward." I was disappointed, embarrassed, and jealous as I watched the Black Boy go down on Mistress. He remained impassive, showing neither pleasure nor displeasure - this was apparently the way Mistress liked her slaves to behave - till she said, "Lie on your back, Black Boy." He lay on the bed, and she climbed on top of him and rode him till she reached a quiet and dignified orgasm. She rode him for a few seconds more afterwards, and then rolled off him and lay propped up on tasseled velvet pillows. "You may all go," she said, and the Slave Boys took me back to the deck, where they let me use the bucket, once again hung me from the boom, made sure my legs were open by attaching a spreader bar to my ankles, attached my labia clips and the vibrators, and sat watching me for a while. "She lookin' good," said the Black Boy. "You think Mistress gonna let us fuck her?" "Dunno," said the White Boy. "Bes' not think about it." "I got a look at her asshole," said the Black Boy. "Sweet." "She's already pretty good wif her mouf," said the White Boy. "Ain't no way she gonna be as good as Girl," said the Black Boy. "Ain't nobody got a mouth like Girl." "There's Mistress," said the White Boy. "Mistress don't suck no slave boy cock," said the Black Boy. "She gonna whip the skin right off you if you even think it." "I ain't the one thinkin' it!" the White Boy protested. They were silent for a minute, watching me struggle to keep my toes on the deck. "She got that fuckin' kind of ass," said the Black Boy. "Wanna put my meat in it." "I wanna piece of that cunt, once Mistress got her all opened and trained," said the White Boy. "Ain't nuffin' like a cunt." They'd begun playing with themselves. "I only come once today," said the White Boy, "in the tart's mouf." "Mistress let me come inside her," said the Black Boy proudly. "Then it's your go," said the White Boy. "Man, why don't you just jack off?" said the Black Boy. "Why should I wank when I can have a gob job? You owe me, mate," said the White Boy, and sat back with his legs spread. The Black Boy sighed and went down on him. I'd never seen one man pleasure another before. After the humiliation of hearing them talk about me as if I were an inflatable doll, the sight of the Black Boy's pretty mouth around the White Boy's pale cock turned me on. My pussy was hot and needy. When the White Boy had come in the Black Boy's mouth, Mistress's voice again came from the speaker. "Make sure she's wet," she said. The White Boy came over and felt my pussy. "She's wet," he said. "Good," said Mistress. "Now go to bed." The White Boy gave my clit a pinch, winked at me as he licked his fingers, and disappeared below with the Black Boy. Once again I was left alone in the moonlight, cold in the night breeze, thinking of Master, and struggling not to cry. The following days were much like the first. During the day I was left out on the deck, sometimes on my back and sometimes on my front (I supposed they were turning me like a pancake), vibrators in my pussy, my labia spread and stretched, clamps on my nipples. I got better at suppressing my responses to stimulation and pain, and so the floggings became less frequent, though Mistress continued to give me ten lashes a day to remind me of my place. After a few days she started to let the Slave Boys make use of my pussy, and a few days after that she let the Black Boy use me anally. "Very tight," he reported, so she added a butt plug to the other gear I spent most of my time wearing. On the tenth day, Mistress let me pleasure her. I'd been hoping to be allowed to do this, because I thought it was a sign that she was pleased with me. Besides, she was a great beauty with a sweet, pink, symmetrical pussy. I had learned by now that I should do my work competently, showing neither pleasure nor displeasure, and I performed well, I thought, and quickly brought her off with my mouth. She was pleased with me and rewarded me by making the White Boy go down on me and give me an orgasm - the first one I'd had since Mistress had taken me from my Master. After that, Mistress granted the Slave Boys free use of my body, saying this would be a valuable part of my training. She encouraged them to penetrate me vaginally or anally when I wasn't expecting it; if they found me unprepared - dry or too tight - they'd tell Mistress, who'd whip me. She also had me pleasure her most days, and so, when I wasn't tied down on the deck being trained with vibrators and clamps, I was usually having sex with Mistress and the Slave Boys. I was becoming attached to them all and grateful for the opportunity to pleasure them and the occasional pleasure they gave me. I was even grateful to be whipped each day. If I hadn't had my whipping by the time the sun set, I'd get nervous, and eventually I'd fall on my knees and beg Mistress for it. Once she smiled at that and told me I was such a good slave she'd give me just eight lashes, so that I had to beg for the ninth and the tenth. Still, I'd been counting the days till I was to be reunited with my Master. On the morning of the day when my cruise with Master was supposed to end, and we were to return the rented yacht, I was excited, thinking how pleased Master would be with the improvements Mistress had made in my body and behavior. I dwelled on these happy thoughts all morning as I lay bound to the deck, then for much of the afternoon. As the sun got low in the sky, I started to have doubts whether Master was coming to get me. These doubts grew through my dinner of bread and a scrap of lettuce, and as the sun touched the horizon I was starting to despair. Mistress called me to her as usual that night. I was terrified to ask her the question that was burning in my mind, but couldn't help myself - I had to know. "Mistress," I said, "please, when will I be returned to my Master?" She gave me a look that made my heart skip two beats, and said, "That's an impudent question - one which amounts to a demand. I do not tolerate such behavior in slaves." She called the Slave Boys to her cabin and had them tie me to the bench. She doubled my daily flogging - ten lashes on each ass cheek, delivered with such violence that I couldn't stop my eyes tearing up. Mistress saw this and added two lashes on each side - a punishment for my weakness. Mistress said, "Take her away, pleasure yourself with her if you like, and hang her up for the night. Return to me quickly." The Slave Boys led me to the deck. "What'll we do with her, then?" asked the White Boy. "Let's butt-fuck her," said the Black Boy. "That's your answer every fucking time," said the White Boy. "'Cause it a fucking good answer," said the Black Boy. They argued for some fifteen minutes about how to use my body, until I whispered, "You're late, Boys. Mistress is going to skin you." "Bugger," said the White Boy. "Hold her down, mate, I'm gonna fuck her face." The Black Boy pushed me to my knees and held me tight around my middle while the White Boy held my head, thrust into my mouth, and hammered away till he came. Then they switched places. When they were done, they hung me from the boom and hurried away. Hanging alone under the stars, with the taste of the Slave Boys' cum lingering on my tongue, I counted the lashes as they resounded through the boat. Ten each: she was in a savage mood. When silence finally fell, I allowed myself to cry, making no noise so Mistress wouldn't hear and punish me again. I was sure Master had abandoned me. He didn't know or care that this sadistic Mistress was flogging me every day and letting her Slave Boys use me as a masturbation aid; he was at home now, having sex with the Slave Girl Mistress had traded for me. But when the sun came up the next morning, I woke to the sight of the Slave Girl curled up asleep in a corner of my deck. She woke and sat up a few seconds after I opened my eyes. She had angry welts everywhere I could see - belly, breasts, and shins. "How did you get here?" I asked. The Girl said, "You're a lot more tan now." She leapt to her feet and scampered away, and as she went I could see red stripes on her back and bottom. That night, Mistress didn't send for me, but left me cuffed to the deck while she took her pleasure with the Slave Girl and watched the Slave Boys use her body. Afterwards the Girl came to me, kissed me (I could taste Mistress's pussy on her mouth), and, without releasing me, sat on my face, scrubbing her pussy against my mouth till she made herself come. Mistress had done this to me several times, so I'd gotten used to it - but the Slave Girl's pussy was ripe from a night of hard use and slimy with the Slave Boys' cum. Still, I liked the Girl - there was something about her - and I liked her pussy in spite of the Slave Boys' cum, which I was used to. The Girl kissed me again, supervised while I used the bucket, and hung me from my cuffs. Then she curled up in her corner and went to sleep. The next night, Mistress called me to her and removed my harness, the vibrators, and the butt plug. She had the two Slave Boys penetrate me at the same time - the White Boy in front and the Black Boy behind - while I pleasured her orally. I took this as a sign that she'd forgiven my impudence, and a little happiness crept into me alongside my misery at the loss of Master. When Mistress and the Slave Boys were done with me, I went out to the deck I shared with the Girl, my pussy and ass still full of cum. I found her tied down the way I had been. She gave me a longing look, and I sat on her face the way she'd done to me, let the cum run into her, and rode her chin, mouth, and nose. I found it intensely pleasurable to stimulate myself this way and had the most satisfying orgasm I'd had since I'd been taken away from Master. In fact, I was already quite fond of the Girl. Before long I began to look forward to the moments I spent in her arms much more than I did my time with the Slave Boys, and even more than my time with Mistress. We sailed on till I forgot to count the days anymore. Before long, Mistress started to think of the Girl and me as interchangeable. She whipped us both daily, one after the other, gave us the same kinds of tasks, and used us sexually in exactly the same ways. She called us both "Girl," and we soon found that if she gave an order to "Girl" when the two of us were together, she didn't care at all which of us ran to carry it out. I started to think of the Girl as the Other Girl, and perhaps she thought of me the same way. Soon after the Other Girl's reappearance, Mistress stopped restraining us. We were free to run about the yacht the way the Slave Boys did, and play as we liked, as long as we were available for Mistress's use whenever she called us. I enjoyed my freedom for some two weeks, performing light duties, relaxing in the sun, and having carefree sex with the Other Girl and the Slave Boys, until, one night, Mistress made the Slave Boys hang me from the boom and cuff the Other Girl to the floor. Both of us spent that whole night in bondage, wondering what this change meant. 3 The next morning we put in at a city of red roofs and gleaming white towers. Anchored in the wide round harbor were other yachts like ours, but also schooners, galleys, clippers, and Viking longships. After we'd dropped anchor, Mistress came to us with the Slave Boys. She wore a long, flowing gown of a brilliant white: her red hair was loose around her shoulders. "Which one?" she asked. "They're the same, as far as I'm concerned." "I'm easy, Mistress," said the White Boy. "What do you think, Black Boy?" she asked. "Do you like one better than the other?" "They both good ass-fuckin'," he said. "That's what I thought you'd say," said Mistress. She opened her hand to reveal a large gold coin. She looked at the Other Girl and said, "Heads or tails?" "Heads," she said. Mistress flipped the coin high in the air and let it fall onto the deck. The Black Boy bent down to look at it. "Heads," he said. Mistress released the Other Girl and said, "Help them get her ready." They let me down from the boom and removed my harness and cuffs, leaving only the collar. Mistress examined my pussy. "It looks open and wet," she said. She put a finger into me: it slid in easily. She slapped my face, and I didn't cry out or flinch. "Good," said Mistress. "Go hold the gunwale, Girl." Anna's Dream I did as she'd said. The Other Girl handed Mistress the whip, and she gave me my daily lashes. I didn't protest or move. "Satisfactory," said Mistress. She stood me up and turned me around. "Tan's acceptable," she said. "She'll do." The Other Girl attached a leash to my collar. They lowered a boat into the water, and Mistress climbed down a ladder and stepped into it. The Girl motioned me to follow, and I did so, being careful not to get tangled in the leash. Then the Girl followed us down the ladder, grabbed the oars, and rowed us to a wooden pier, where she moored the boat. On the pier, the Girl bound my hands behind my back. She and Mistress led me through the town, over cobbled streets past neat whitewashed houses from whose windows the townsfolk peered at my nakedness. We hadn't gone far before a man in a crimson robe and with a big gold chain around his neck hailed Mistress. She greeted him, calling him Mayor, and they walked some distance ahead of us to talk. When Mistress was out of earshot, I said to the Other Girl, "She's going to sell me, isn't she?" "Yes," she said. A knot formed in my stomach. This wasn't a good development, but I knew better than to think there was anything I could do about it. "I'm going to miss you a lot," I said. "I'll miss you too," she said, and squeezed my arm. The street was wider now; ahead of us was a broad plaza. "I'm glad it wasn't you that had to be sold," I said. She said, "Don't assume you're the one who lost the coin toss. In fact, don't assume it was even a coin toss." I didn't know what she meant, so I just walked on beside her in silence. In the middle of the plaza was a big wooden platform; there were numerous smaller ones around the edges. Slaves were standing on a number of these peripheral platforms, some naked and some clothed, some standing free and others wearing chains. Quaintly dressed men and women strolled by the platforms, chatting and examining the wares. Mistress led me to an empty platform and made the Other Girl replace my leather collar with an iron one, which she attached to a post with a heavy chain. They spread my legs obscenely: my gaping pussy and uplifted breasts were displayed to the crowd that was gathering to view the new arrival. A man in a red velvet coat, a shirt with lace ruffles, and a powdered wig came up onto our platform and said, "What manner of slave is this?" "A fuck slave," said Mistress. The man felt my pussy. I was wet and open, the way I'd been trained. "Excellent," he said, and squeezed one of my breasts. "Firm breasts," said Mistress. "You have to keep her slender - slaves of this type can easily go to seed. If you win the auction, I'll give you the diet we've been using." "Thank you," he said. "I certainly intend to bid." Next was a middle-aged woman. She had an ugly, cruel look, but was magnificently dressed in a huge gold-embroidered dress with an enormous lace ruff. She tested my pussy as the man had done, then pried open my mouth and peered inside. Now that she was close, I noticed that she had an unclean smell. "Cunt licker?" she asked. "Of course," said Mistress. "I've often used her that way myself, and found her completely satisfactory." "How much whipping does she require?" said the woman. "I confess she's spirited," said Mistress. "I recommend ten lashes daily - five on each side of her bottom." "That's nothing at all," the woman sniffed. "I do not coddle my slaves the way you appear to do." "If you win the auction," said Mistress, "she'll be yours to do with as you please." "Indeed she will," said the woman, and huffed away. Over the next hour or so, more than a dozen people visited our platform, all dressed in strange, old-fashioned clothes - togas, gowns, armor, habits, tunics. They all tested my pussy; some put fingers in my ass; most squeezed my breasts or tweaked my nipples; a few slapped my face or gave my bottom a stinging blow. One young woman, blond and braided, wearing a colorful kirtle with two huge brooches, got to her knees, gave my pussy a lick, and tilted her head thoughtfully, lips parted a little as if she were tasting a fine wine. The auction began when the sun was directly overhead. The elegantly dressed men and women crowded around the central platform as, one by one, the slaves were displayed there, and their owners proclaimed their qualities to the crowd in loud voices. There were field slaves, fuck slaves, household slaves, and more. Once a slave had been announced, the auctioneer took over and conducted the sale. It was hours before our turn came. Mistress and the Other Girl led me to the central platform and chained me there. The Other Girl called out to the crowd and said, "My Mistress is offering a full-service, all-holes fuck slave, suitable for use by both men and women. Perpetually wet, opened vaginally and anally, and educated in all the standard sexual techniques and a number of exotic ones. She's cheap to feed, has a high tolerance for pain, and is competently bucket-trained." I was embarrassed, but didn't blush. Blushing would have been perceived as a protest and punished severely. When the Other Girl was finished with her harangue, the auctioneer stepped up and said, "This is one of the finest fuck slaves I've ever seen at auction. Look at these firm, high breasts!" He gave one of my breasts a squeeze. "Look at these perfect, rounded, freshly striped buttocks!" He turned me around and gave my sore bottom a spank, almost making me gasp. He said, "Let's start the bidding at one hundred gold pieces. Do I hear an opening bid?" The man who'd visited my platform first said, "One hundred." The bad-smelling woman said, "One hundred and ten." Another man said, "Hundred and fifty!" The blond girl in the kirtle called, "One hundred and seventy-five!" And so the bidding went on until my price had climbed all the way to three hundred and forty gold pieces, the last bid by the bad-smelling woman. The auctioneer said, "Do I hear another bid?" He surveyed the crowd, and I did too, thinking my price was something to be proud of and wanting it to go higher. Far off to one side, leaning against a column, was a man in a purple vest, blood-red pants, and a plumed hat. Something about him caught my eye, and I gave him another look. "Master!" I gasped. "No talking!" said the Other Girl, and gave my ass a searing blow with the leash. I stayed quiet but stared hard at Master. He looked me in the eye and grinned. Why wasn't he bidding on me? I gave him a pleading look, but he shook his head. "Three seventy-five!" called the first man. "Four hundred!" said the bad-smelling woman. The man looked doubtful for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "Do I hear another bid?" said the auctioneer. He let five seconds pass, and then said, "Sold, to the fortunate lady with the ruff!" My heart sank. Why hadn't Master tried to get me back? I looked for him, but he was gone. Mistress and the Other Girl unchained me, replaced my collar and leash, and led me down from the platform and over to a rough-hewn table, where the bad-smelling woman was handing a large, heavy coin purse to a man in a leather jerkin. The man spilled out the gold coins from the purse and counted the money. He separated out a few coins, put them into a box, and returned the rest to the purse, which he handed to Mistress. Smiling, the Other Girl gave my leash to the woman. Mistress said, "I hope you enjoy your new fuck slave." Neither of them glanced my way. I'd stopped existing for them. The woman said, "I intend to. When I get her to my ship, I'm going to take a shit and make her lick my ass clean. Then I'll give her such a thrashing as she's never had before. I hope she'll be sturdier than my last fuck slave, who wore out altogether too quickly." She led me through the crowd, still naked and with my hands tied behind me. People turned to stare as we passed, and some commented on my body, but I hardly noticed - I was in despair, thinking about what the rest of my life was going to be like. The woman led me out of the plaza and through the streets, down to the harbor. We walked out onto a pier where a little boat was moored. A sailor helped the woman into the boat and then lifted me in, since I didn't have the use of my hands. He rowed us out to a clipper ship in the harbor. The woman gave the sailor a coin, then untied my hands. We climbed a ladder; by the time we'd gotten to the top and were stepping onto the deck, the sailor was already rowing away. The woman led me through a group of leering sailors, all unkempt and grimy. "Don't worry, boys," she said. "You'll get your turns." We stepped through a hatch that led down to a narrow corridor. She led me to a door at the very end and drew a chain with a bunch of keys from the folds of her vast dress. She selected a key, opened the door, and pulled me into a tiny room with a wooden privy; on the wall beside the privy was a ring from which hung a chain with a black iron collar. She said, "Kneel, slave!" removed my leather collar, and attached the iron one, which she locked with a substantial padlock. She said, "You'll live here in the head, except when I want you for whipping or fucking, or to pass you around among the sailors. Regard the collar as part of your body: you'll wear it for the rest of your life." She hiked up her dress and sat on the privy, ignoring me. In the tiny room her odor was nearly unbearable, and soon the smell of her shit was added to that of her body. Her diet must have been unhealthy, or perhaps she had an intestinal parasite, because the stench was overwhelming. Within seconds, my stomach was queasy with both the smell and the thought of what she was about to make me do: the bile rose in my throat. I was sure Master didn't want me, but had only come to the auction to witness my humiliation. He cared nothing about my present misery or my dismal future: I'd be chained up in this privy, licking this vile woman's filthy ass, beaten within an inch of my life, gang-raped by the lowlifes who worked for her. My life was over. The thought made my nausea worse: my stomach was starting to heave; it was a struggle to keep it under control. Just when my insides seemed about to leap into my throat, and I was sure I was going to vomit all over the woman's dress (what a beating I'd get then!), her chin quite suddenly fell to her breast and she began to snore loudly. Light footsteps sounded in the corridor, and the door opened. It was the Other Girl - still naked, like me. She slipped into the head silently, found the woman's keys, released me, and whispered, "Come quickly!" We ran out of the room and down the corridor, jumping over a sailor who was curled up on the floor sucking his thumb. We climbed the ladder and emerged onto the deck, where sailors were sprawled here and there, sound asleep. "How did you do this?" I asked as the Girl clambered onto a ladder that led to a little boat bobbing in the sea below us. "Quick!" she ordered. "They'll wake up soon!" I climbed into the boat, and she rowed us across the harbor to a yacht - Master's yacht! She rowed alongside and gave me a boost onto the boat; I pulled her up after me. Master was lounging on a cushioned bench, drinking an iced tea - he was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen, in salmon shorts and a gray tank top. He smiled, stood up, and came towards us. "Master," I said, and fell to my knees in front of him. The Girl said to him, "Now it's time for you to keep your side of the bargain. There's a slave market on another island a day's sail from here. I hear there are Amazonian traders there who'll pay almost any price for a blond girl." I was instantly frightened and confused. "What's this bargain?" I asked. The Girl said, "Your Master's going to sell me. That was my price for stealing you for him." "But why?" I asked. "Mistress gave me to him. I don't think she meant to, but that's what she did. Now he has to dispose of me." "She's got some kind of curse on her," said Master. "It's a tedious story," said the Girl. "Many years ago I refused to sleep with some sorcerer, and he cursed me to perpetual slavery. Never say no to a sorcerer - they're really vindictive. Mistress owned me for a while, but when I was on your Master's boat and she said, 'I'm giving you to him,' she, well, actually gave me to him. You've got to be careful how you phrase things when you're dealing with curses. They're very literal-minded." "Why not just go on belonging to Master?" I said. "She's a lesbian," said Master. "She had sex with me because she had to, and she was amazing, but she didn't care for it at all, and she was miserable without a woman around. Finally we just settled for whipping . . ." "Master's really good with the whip," said the Girl dreamily. "I know," I said. "And then," Master continued, "when it looked like her Mistress wasn't going to give you back, we made the bargain. She'd find you for me, and I'd sell her, making sure she went to a woman." "I don't want you to go," I said to the Girl. "Please, Master, don't sell her. She can go on belonging to you, and have me for a lover." "I love you," said the Girl, "but it wouldn't make any sense for me to stay. The relationships would be way too tangled." "We could make it work," I said, "I know we could." I turned to Master. "She just saved me from a living death. You can't sell her to strangers after that." "I've been sold to strangers before," said the Girl. "There are worse things." "Why can't I just give you back to your Mistress?" said Master. "She'd never take me back, after the things I've done," said the Girl. "I would, and I will," said Mistress, climbing onto the deck and grinning a grin that showed her teeth and turned my blood to ice. "And once you're mine again, I'll hang you from the boom and let you dangle there for a century. I'll flay you till your blood puddles on the deck. I'll build a fire under you and roast you slow. I'll flog your cunt till it looks like a butterfly chop. And that's just the beginning. I swear to you, you'll spend every minute of every day howling in agony." I shuffled forward on my knees and flung my arms around Master's thighs. "Please, Master, don't let Mistress do those things. Please, let's keep her. Master, I'm begging you!" I looked up into Master's face so he could see the tears in my eyes. He always liked it when I wept and begged. "I'll do anything, Master!" I said. "Anything?" he asked. "Even that thing that you've been thinking of making into a hard limit?" The Girl said, "You'd really take me back, Mistress?" "Of course," said Mistress. "There's never been a slave to equal you in the whole history of the world. I can't believe I ever considered selling you." "And you'd do all those things - for me?" "I'd do more than that for love of you, Girl," said Mistress, "and for your correction." The Girl fell to the deck and clutched Mistress's ankles. "I love you so, Mistress," she wept. "I'll be yours forever." "You want me to sell you to her, then?" said Master. "Yes, please, Master," said the Girl. "I'll go with her." Mistress produced the heavy coin purse from somewhere, took out three gold coins, and gave them to Master. "Take these to a reputable auction house," she said. "They'll make you rich." "She's yours now," said Master, saying the words that would transfer ownership back to Mistress as he slipped the coins into his pocket. The Girl and I spent several minutes hugging, kissing, and weeping, and she and Mistress climbed into their boat, where the Slave Boys were waiting to row them to their yacht. We watched them till they were out of sight. Master pulled me to him and said, "What am I going to do with you, slave? It's obvious that you're still unruly, misbehaved, disobedient, and disrespectful." "Yes, Master," I said. "That part of my training seems not to have stuck. But I'm always wet and open, I never close my legs, and I've gotten used to ten lashes a day. I'm an excellent fuck slave, and I'm yours." "I liked it when you begged for your friend," he said. "I love to grovel and beg," I breathed. My begging had turned me on; my pussy was running and my breath was coming in gasps. "And when you do just the opposite of what I begged for." I was choked up now. "And when I fall at your feet and scream for mercy, and you tell me to stop being a baby . . ." "Yeah," he said, shoving me to my knees. He unzipped his shorts and said, "What are you going to beg me for now?" Eyes wide, I backed away from Master, shrinking towards the gunwale. "Please, Master," I said, voice breaking, "don't be rough with me! Don't tie me up so I can't move an inch. Don't paddle my bottom till I cry. Don't spank my pussy till I'm shrieking stop! Don't batter my throat with your big cock while I can't lift a finger to protect myself." My voice rose from a whine to a wail. "Have mercy, Master! Don't put clamps on my nipples and pussy lips! Don't put the big butt plug in me!" Master was grinning, stepping out of his shorts and advancing on my cringing form. "Oh, Master!" I pleaded. "Please don't torture my clit with the big vibrator!" I cowered against the gunwale as he loomed over me, fingers curved around his long, thick cock, its foreskin retracted and the head dark, moist, and engorged. I was weeping now and choking out my words. "Oh, Master, please don't hammer my poor tender pussy and ass with that huge cock!" He reached down and seized a fistful of my hair. I curled into a tight ball and whimpered, "Please, Master, I'm begging you!"