Lost in Lisbon

This chapter is a spin-off exploring Sara's intense sexual experience in the Spa.

I introduced Sara as a counterpoint to Sofia - an unwilling and rebel judicial slave versus a more willing submissive. Their contrasting backgrounds create new dynamics and challenges for Miguel.

As English isn't my native language, I welcome any feedback on both the writing and the narrative choice of bringing Sara into Miguel and Sofia's story.

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SARA POV

"Stand up and look at yourself. Aren't you more beautiful now?" Mariana said, gesturing toward the mirror after finishing with my hair, nails, and body hair removal.

I stared at my reflection, hardly recognizing the young woman looking back at me. Yes, she was beautiful, but she wasn't me--she was the slave my owner wanted me to be.

"Don't make that face," Mariana chided. "You're a very pretty girl. Now, lie down on the massage table. We need to remove the dead skin."

I complied, and she began applying a blue exfoliating cream across my body. The rough particles scraped against my tender skin, making it burn.

"Stop! You're hurting me," I protested, flinching away from her touch.

"Hold still," she said firmly, continuing her methodical work. "This removes the dead skin. Better now than looking like a snake when all that sunburned skin starts peeling off." Her fingers moved relentlessly, and I watched as rolls of dead skin and cream accumulated on my body and the floor.

"How did you get such a bad sunburn?" she asked, working the cream into my shoulders.

I swallowed hard before answering. "I was sentenced to slavery, but I chose death instead. It would have been more dignified, but... I couldn't go through with it. So here I am." The shame in my voice surprised me. The logic had been simple: life always holds opportunities, the fight could continue, and I could still study, and maybe have a family. So why did I feel like my principles were peeling away with each layer of dead skin?

"Sunburn as punishment?" Mariana asked, her hands never stopping moving across my body. "Don't worry about it. I'll make you good as new."

"They submerged me in hot water and then left me in the sun for about four hours," I explained quietly.

"Did you kill someone, like the boss's girlfriend?" Her question was casual, almost friendly. "You can tell me. You know, many of my other clients only avoid wearing steel collars because they wear diamond ones instead."

Her words hit home. If I'd make money destroying the planet instead of trying to save it, I'd be at home right now, planning a vacation with my parents.

"I didn't kill anyone," I said. "I was taking an exam when the crime they convicted me for happened. I was even a minor at the time." It was my truth, but to the capitalist system, I was an enemy who needed to be silenced.

"Even so, they convicted you? How many years?" Mariana asked while working on my back and shoulders, removing layers of dead skin.

"Twelve years," I replied, my voice hollow. "My comrades were working for the Russians, but I didn't know that. What I thought was a protest action was actually a Russian intelligence operation. I just wanted people to realize how their cars were destroying the planet." There was no point protesting my innocence anymore--the sentence had already been passed.

"Come on, let's go to the gym," Mariana said, reattaching the leash to my neck.

"What are we going to do at the gym?" I asked, anxiety creeping into my voice.

"Come along--you'll like this part. It's where the good part begins."

"What good part?" I muttered. The only semi-positive moment of the day had been seeing my parents, and even that had been bittersweet.

"You'll have a shower and then a relaxing massage. You'll enjoy it," she assured me.

What I didn't enjoy was being led barefoot through a service corridor to the shopping center's gym. Walking through the main gym area, my body still covered in patches of blue cream, was an exercise in humiliation. The mirrored walls seemed to multiply my image infinitely, though most people pointedly ignored my presence. Only a few young men stared, then I saw her, an older woman probably in her fifties, sitting on a weight bench. As I passed, she caught my eye in the mirror, deliberately ran her tongue across her upper lip, pressed two fingers to her mouth in a V-shape before sliding them slowly down her chin. The gesture was unmistakable in its meaning, made worse by her predatory smile and the way her eyes raked over my naked body.

I took a deep breath, remembering Guard Helga from the prison and what my fate might have been if she had won the auction instead of Mr. Miguel. Guard Helga, with her smelly hairy pussy, who had made it clear exactly what she would do with me if she ever owned me. Sometimes, I supposed, small mercies came in strange forms--even if that mercy wore the face of a man who represented everything I had once fought against.

Mariana opened a frosted glass door and pulled me into the bathing area's antechamber. Steam hung thick in the air, and I could see the outline of a small pool and jacuzzi through the mist.

Mariana removed her silk kimono and hung it on the rack alongside clothes belonging to others who were either enjoying the space or simply showering after their workout. The communal nudity didn't faze me--after weeks in prison surrounded by naked women, it felt almost normal. What surprised me was the complete absence of sexual energy; none of the men had erections despite the presence of several beautiful naked women in the pool area.

"Don't stare--it's rude. You can see but not look," Mariana chided as I observed her body. My attention fixed first on her breasts, round and perfect--too perfect, really. Like everything else about her, they had been surgically enhanced to match patriarchal beauty standards. My gaze drifted to her vulva, so different from mine: completely hairless, without even the small patch above, and her labia weren't swollen like mine.

"Sorry, it's my first time in an upscale gym. Everyone's just... naked," I stammered. Was this gym a front for a swingers' club? But no, there was no sex happening--I was the only one aroused. Had anyone noticed my hard nipples and wet vulva? The shame burned through me.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Mariana tugged my leash toward one of the showers and turned on the water.

"NO! It's too hot--I need to get out!" I screamed, drawing stares from the other occupants. Panic seized me as memories of the "hot bath" punishment flooded back.

"What are you doing? The water's at a perfect temperature," Mariana said, yanking my leash and pulling me under the scalding spray. Terror gripped me as the hot water hit my skin, triggering flashbacks.

"Control yourself, breathe deeply, enjoy the water. Don't let fear control you, relax and feel how pleasant it is," Mariana said while holding my shoulders. I followed her voice and managed to regain control. "See how nice it is, feel how good it is to be clean and renewed." Mariana's hands, which had felt like sandpaper before, were now soft and soothing, and I began to enjoy the relaxing warmth of the flowing water, along with the white noise and steam.

"Aaah! It's freezing!" My body shivered in shock as my muscles and skin went from a state of relaxation to instant contraction. Thousands of tiny bumps covered my skin, and my nipples and areolas responded dramatically to the cold - the dark pink flesh puckered and contracted, creating tight concentric ridges around my now hardened nipples.

"It's an energizing shiver - one reason I love taking care of slaves. I can enjoy the shower with them, feel the shock of the cold water, and watch all their muscles toning up," Mariana said while leading me towards the exit. As we were drying ourselves, that fat woman who'd been hitting on me earlier came into the changing room. She winked at me again while stripping off and getting into the same shower I'd just used. Once again, I thanked God I wasn't the slave of such a disgusting creature.

Then I caught myself - I was responding exactly how the patriarchal society had conditioned me to, judging people by their appearance, especially women. But no, I'd walked naked through the gym and now was making the return journey to Mariana's office, and only that woman had made me feel worse than I already did. She wasn't disgusting because she was old and fat, but because she thought she could take advantage of me due to my status as a slave.

Back in her office, Mariana gestured to the massage table. "Right then, on your front, please."

"Like this?" I asked, positioning myself face down.

"Perfect. Now, I'm going to put this blindfold on you."

"What? No, I don't want--"

"Shh," she interrupted softly. "Just relax and let your other senses take over. Trust me on this."

The rich scent of incense filled my nostrils as she draped a warm towel across my back. I tensed slightly when her hands first made contact with my shoulders.

"You're very tense,so tense, so scared, " she murmured. "This might feel a bit warm..."

I gasped softly as hot aromatic oil trickled from the base of my neck, slowly following the curve of my spine all the way down to my buttocks. Her hands followed the trail of oil, applying firm, steady pressure.

"How does it feel?" she asked while working her thumbs along my shoulder blades.

"Mmm... actually quite nice," I admitted, beginning to relax despite myself.

Mariana's hands continued working on my back from neck to bottom, one hand on my buttocks while the other massaged my nape, then sliding back up. Next, her hands seemed to want to split my body in two, pushing outward from the centre of my back. I could only focus on the sensation of her hands, the warmth of the oil, and the scent of incense - it was extremely relaxing.

When I felt the oil trickling down the cleft of my buttocks, I found myself wishing her hands would follow the path of the warming liquid.

"Oops! Sorry, hope it's not burning," she said while wiping away the excess oil from my buttocks, but also from my anus and vulva - had it really been an accident, or deliberate? She spread the oil across my buttocks while my sex began to feel the effects of the oil and its slight burning sensation.

"It burns a bit. But it's not unbearable," I said. In reality, it was quite pleasant, and I imagined how it would feel if she ran her hands over my vulva and massaged my labia and clitoris. But that didn't happen.

What did happen was that she worked her way down my thighs and legs until she reached my feet.

"You have such beautiful small feet, with slender toes," I heard Mariana's words. It was something one of my girlfriends used to say when she would paint my nails - she would say the same thing about my feet.

"Thank you," I responded as I felt her hand on my heel pressing the center and then her knuckles running along the arch of my left foot. It was a pleasant sort of ache. A sense of contentment flowed not just through my feet but throughout my body - whether from how she was touching the sole of my foot or stretching my toes as if she might pull them off, or from the spicy sandalwood scent of the incense, or from the warmth the oil was bringing to my body. I was experiencing a pleasant feeling of wellbeing.

"Turn around," Mariana commanded, and I obeyed, guided by her hands. The blindfold left me defenseless, but she was right - my other senses were far more heightened. When she shifted her attention to my other foot, then ankles and legs, I felt my body in ways I never had before. I silently begged for her to continue up my legs and return her attention to my sex. Even without seeing, I knew my vulva must have been visibly aroused, swollen, and wet with desire. But no - her hands moved slowly across my thighs, and her thumbs traced along my hip creases, while my engorged lips felt only the lightest brush of her fingers - just enough to feed the desire without satisfying it.

"Please, I need to come! Please - I know you can make me!" I moved my hand desperately toward my sex, spreading myself while begging "Please make me come!" But she moved my hand away, gentle yet firm.

"Control your instincts. Learn to enjoy the pleasure without rushing to the end. Such a needy little thing," she said as she returned her attention to my inner thighs, this time with unmistakably sensual intent. Again her thumbs traced along my hip creases, then brushed lightly against my most sensitive areas, leaving me gasping with frustrated desire.

"Just feel the moment," I heard her whisper. Something cold trailed down my chest - ice or metal, I couldn't tell. Then came heat in the same path, from my chest to my navel. The sensations repeated across my belly and breasts - hot and cold, cold and hot, like the shock from the shower but precisely targeted. When she traced the cold across my nipples, I reached a level of arousal I'd never known existed, and after she repeated it on my other nipple, my entire body was possessed by an incredible, alien sensation. Was this an orgasm? I wasn't sure - she hadn't even touched my pussy, had deliberately avoided it. But I couldn't contain myself and screamed.

"YESSS! YESSS! HAAAHA!" My body bucked and writhed with a mind of its own, thrashing like a fish out of water on the table. What that woman had made me feel was beyond anything I'd experienced - it was as if every nerve ending was firing at once, all the denied pleasure from these days exploding in one overwhelming surge.

"Ooh, mmmm! Thank you, thank you!" I repeated breathlessly as waves of pleasure melted into a deep, diffuse state of euphoria. I never knew such bliss was possible without actual sex. That's when I felt it - a sudden fire blooming between my legs. My clitoris burned hot then turned ice cold. I felt her fingers delicately parting my labia, touching my sensitive pink bud with the same treatment that had sent me into ecstasy before. Something entered my vagina then - a finger? No - it was glacially cold while my clitoris blazed with heat. Like a choreographed dance, sharp cold and intense heat alternated their rhythm between my most intimate places. That familiar sensation built again, rising through my body - not diffuse this time but radiating in powerful waves from my core, each pulse more intense than the last. How was it possible to feel such overwhelming pleasure? My mind struggled to comprehend these new sensations taking control of my body.

I lost control of my bladder, but Mariana didn't seem to mind. She simply fetched a disposable towel.

"Sorry... I lost control. I'll clean it," I whispered, mortified, but she just smiled.

"That was extraordinary - I've never seen anyone as sexually repressed as you reach such heights. Don't be embarrassed though, losing control is perfectly natural. What I didn't expect was an orgasm without direct stimulation. I'd heard it was possible, but you're the first woman to experience two full releases during the treatment. I think your owner should pay double." From her entire speech, my mind fixated on one detail - my owner had ordered this treatment, I had an owner. I wasn't a person, I was property, for a moment I had forgot about my sentence.

To be continued...