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.
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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."
