Lost in Lisbon - the Ghost

This story continues the adventures of Sofia, the teacher sentenced to 7 years of slavery and 500 lashes for vehicular manslaughter, and Sara, her former student sentenced to 12 years of slavery for terrorism, as lovers and slaves of Miguel. Set approximately one year after "Don't Drink and Drive" and "Lost in Lisbon," it explores their lives within the alternative universe of "Portuguese Crime Reduction Act," where judicial slavery and corporal punishment have been adopted in Portugal.

I was uncertain whether I should have divided the chapter into two parts, please comment and give me your opinion.

While reading previous chapters is not mandatory, they may provide additional context. As always, I apologize for any language and translation errors and thank you for the time you've dedicated to reading my words.

Please Comment.

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I pushed open the apartment door and sighed with relief. The first thing I did was kick off my trainers; they were top of the range but my feet still throbbed with each step. A year of walking ten kilometres daily had transformed my body. My legs had grown stronger, my waist more defined. The exhaustion was real, but when I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror, I couldn't deny the results were worth every aching step.

After a quick shower, I went to the bedroom to change. Miguel had clear rules about what his slaves could wear--either breasts or bottom had to be on display, though we weren't permitted to wander the house completely naked. As I smoothed moisturiser over my skin, I caught myself smiling at my reflection. My breasts were rather lovely, pale and round, more like those of a young woman than someone of forty-one. Still, I almost always chose to cover them and leave my bottom exposed instead.

I opened the wardrobe door and from among the silk kimonos and my blouses, finally selected a green shirt, not one of my silk blouses that I wore to work, but one of Miguel's shirts. When I went to the kitchen, I met Sara also in casual attire, though she had opted for denim shorts while her small breasts remained exposed.

We were the perfect contrast. I, more mature and taller with a defined figure; she, slender. My skin fair, hers more Mediterranean.

W3

"Good afternoon, Sara. Have you been studying?" I asked her, as I opened the refrigerator to see what was available for dinner.

"Yes, Miss Sofia. Pathology. I hate this subject," she replied, pushing a strand of her dark hair away from her face.

"Medicine! It's a difficult course, and sometimes you have to do unpleasant things."

"They... they were in the same tank of hot water as me. It could have been me. It was supposed to be me." And I was supposed to have been given as slave to the mother of the man I had run over and killed, but I wasn't. I hugged Sara in a maternal way.

"They were just two skeletons, Sara. One day we'll be skeletons too," I told her, but I understood why seeing the bones of her former comrades had made her develop an aversion to the subject. "Don't think about it anymore. Instead, check if we're ready for when Miguel arrives," I said, changing the subject.

"That green shirt really suits your red hair," she added, looking me up and down, her eyes lingering on my exposed sex. "I do love the color of your hair, Miss."

"Thank you," I replied, quite certain she was more interested in my copper curls below than those on my head.

We heard the key in the door. Miguel was arriving.

We both positioned ourselves by the entrance; I adjusted the shirt so my hair fell across my breasts where the open buttons nearly revealed them.

"My two most beautiful slaves," he said, smiling at the sight of us.

"Gorgeous," he said, landing a playful smack on my bare rear. "A man could break his fingers pinching these curves of yours."

Then he turned to Sara. He gave her a quick kiss and slid his hand inside her jeans, finding her most intimate spot.

"And how's our little reminder doing?" he asked.

"It's working perfectly, sir," Sara replied, a sad shadow crossing her face.

I absently touched the metal collar encircling my neck, reflecting that it had been nearly a year since I'd felt it's shocking discipline. Sara hadn't been granted the same reprieve.

Miguel laughed and ran his fingers through her dark chestnut hair, it was longer than when we rescued her.

"Fifteen out of twenty in all subjects, Sara. That was our agreement." She lowered her gaze and nodded, a strand of hair falling across her face.

My eyes caught the letter Miguel had brought in, displaying the official seal of the Ministry of Education.

"Look what came in the post, addressed to some Professor S. D. Santos. Ring any bells?" he asked with playful mockery. My stomach flutteredI'd been waiting for this letter.

Instead of handing me the letter, he held it away playfully like a Naughty schoolboy.

"Miguel, it's addressed to me," I protested.

He looked at me with a teasing smile. "Everything that's yours is mine, isn't it?"

A year ago, I would have been furious if someone had opened my mail, but back then I wasn't a slave. Now I simply waited, resigned. Sara watched silently, a small smile playing on her lips.

"What does it say?" Miguel was being childish. "Please, don't leave me hanging like this." He smiled with that boyish grin of his. Sometimes he really didn't seem like a man in his fifties, but rather like a kid.

He coughed and put on a serious face. "Dear Ms. Sofia Daniel dos Santos, we regret to inform you that..." I felt disappointed. Could it be possible? All these months I had worked myself to the bone to ensure my students' grades were the best in the school district, all those meetings Director Luis would schedule for any little reason, which were nothing more than an excuse to see me naked in his office, and now a letter that begins with "We regret..."

"We regret to inform you that, contrary to the usual procedure for permanent appointments, the Higher Education Council was forced to deliberate on your case in an extraordinary session. Given the specificities of your legal situation, an unfavorable decision was expected..."

The collar around my neck and my naked breasts on social media were all those petty bureaucrats had seen. All my work was irrelevant, the overtime hours, the students' results, everything erased because of my slave status. I lowered my eyes, avoiding Miguel and Sara's gaze.

"However," Miguel continued, "in light of the excellent work developed by Ms Sofia Daniel dos Santos as acting Principal, the recommendations left by the late Principal Luis Santos, and the unanimous opinion of the Parents' Association, the Ministry finds itself obligated to confirm your permanent appointment as Principal..."

"The letter says we're going out for dinner, Madam Principal," he responded with his smile, while I couldn't contain my tears, joy but also indignation at the teasing expression on Miguel's face.

"Stop laughing, it's not funny, you idiot. You did that on purpose!" But he wouldn't stop laughing, and Sara joined in, though more because it was a happy occasion.

"Look at her, Sara. She took 40 lashes on her back without a sound, but gets promoted to Principal and she starts crying like a child." I was crying from joy, from rage, from guilt... Even I didn't really knew why I was crying.

==

Miguel told me to choose where we would eat. He didn't select my outfit either, nor did he force me to go without a bra, as he usually did when taking me out. I chose one of my favorite places. It wasn't an upscale restaurant but a beer and seafood tavern at the corner of Benfica Road and Uruguay street, It was a place where I'd been many times before a place where if anyone recognized me, I would be just Miss Sofia the schoolteacher rather than the fashion model or the slave.

The maître d' was the father of one of my students and greeted us as if we were a family, father, mother, and daughter, rather than an owner with his two slaves. Of course he knew about my situation; everyone did.

"Miss Santos, lovely to see you here!" Joaquim greeted us warmly. "Would you prefer the terrace or inside? I've got a perfect spot either way."

"Joaquim, hello," I smiled back. "How's Carlos getting on? It's been ages since I've seen him."

"Brilliantly, actually, he'll be university-bound before we know it."

"I'm glad to hear it. The terrace would be perfect, thank you," I replied with a smile.

Joaquim led us to the table. The terrace had a few locals I knew by sight, a year of daily walks along Benfica main street had not only sculpted my legs but widened my network of familiar faces.

We devoured oysters, sea urchins, prawns, and finally a seafood rice, all washed down with beer. Sara complained about the oysters and sea urchins being alive, and Miguel nearly activated the shock in her collar, but she escaped punishment.

"Everything you eat was once alive, little terrorist. One day something will eat you too... and me as well," he said sternly, though with a touch of dark humor.

"Perhaps it'll be me," I replied with a mischievous look at Miguel, "and I'll make sure you're very much alive and... firm... when I devour you."

Miguel smiled and sucked an oyster, then offered one to Sara. "Here you go, terrorist. Enjoy and learn." Sara mimicked him but removed the mollusk with her tongue, turning the instruction into a silent, suggestive contest. The evening flowed wonderfully after that; even Sara's sullen expression melted away. Perhaps it was the beer, or perhaps because the positive energy between Miguel and me proved irresistible.

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Miguel opened the garage door and carried me bridal-style up the stairs.

"You'll drop me! You're drunk, and so am I, we'll both end up in hospital."

"You're such a lightweight. The terrorist drank more than you," he responded. Sara climbed the stairs ahead of us to distance herself from "the two old perverts." I was about to retort when a kiss silenced me before I could put Sara in her place.

It was the third time Miguel had carried me this way, but this was the first time I felt happy. The first had been when he brought me from the court, I was terrified and anxious about my future. The second came after my appearance on that dammed, Pelourinho show; I'd been barely conscious from pain. But today I was happy, kissing my owner, my lover, my love. And despite my protests, I was certain he would never let me fall.

As soon as we entered our bedroom, he let me drop onto our bed, unbuttoned my dress, and then kissed my bare breasts.

"Your breasts are so beautiful, Sofia. You're so hot," he told me as he undressed me completely, removing my silk knickers before kissing my breasts and then my belly.

"You always say that. You do know I'm your slave, you don't need to sweet-talk me," I replied, even though I adored the way he kissed me every time he made love to me. It wasn't like when I gave him his morning blow job followed by quick sex, or like the weekend orgies at Carla's house. When Miguel made love with me, it was different.

"I'm not sweet-talking you, I'm appreciating you, your beauty, Sofia." He continued, placing a dry kiss on my sex and stroking my pubic hair. He was fascinated by my copper-gold curls.

But he didn't stop there; he continued worshipping my body, the very same body he'd possessed every day for about a year. I'd experienced more sex in this past year than in my entire previous life, and he had actually been my first lover. The only man with the legal right to use me as a sexual object whenever he wished had also been the only one to care about my pleasure, the only man who hadn't simply used my body to relieve himself before rolling over to sleep.

"Sara!" Miguel called while playfully nibbling on my toes and stroking my thigh with slow, circular motions.

Sara entered the room, already having removed her t-shirt and wearing only shorts. Unlike me, Sara had no problem being naked or semi-naked--it was probably the only one of Miguel's rules she followed willingly.

"How can I serve you, sir?" she asked Miguel.

"Light the candles on the dresser and bedside tables," Miguel instructed.She obeyed silently.

"Anything else, Miguel?" Sara inquired.

"No, Sara, you can go to your room, unless you'd like to join us," he replied.

Miguel's invitation caught both Sara and me by surprise. Miguel used Sara for his wake-up blow jobs and made a point of having sex with her at least once a week. But he'd never made love to her; truthfully, neither had I, we'd only shared Carla during our weekend business meetings/orgies.

Her eyes locked with mine as she lingered by the door, hesitating over her response. The flickering candlelight she'd just lit created a magical, sensual atmosphere. I could see she wanted to stay.

"I'd really like you to stay, Sara, and make love with me." I extended my arms toward her, physically reinforcing my invitation.

Sara sat on the edge of the bed. Just as Miguel had done, she gazed at my breasts with admiration, then cupped them tenderly in her hands before drawing me in for a kiss. Her bare skin met mine as our breasts pressed together, soft curves yielding to each other as she embraced me.

Now we were both naked side by side as Miguel took in the sight before him.

"Are you going to undress or just stand there watching?" He caught on and pulled his shirt off, dropping it to the floor. Sara and I removed his trousers, and the three of us stood naked on the bed.

I traced my fingers over both my lovers, Miguel's firm muscles and Sara's delicate breasts. They eagerly returned the attention, and when both their hands found my breasts simultaneously, we exchanged knowing glances and shared laughter.

"Great minds think alike," I murmured as we leaned in together, our mouths seeking skintheirs favoring my breasts, mine alternating between them both.

When my fingers traced Sara's vulva, I felt her heat and wetness, but also the small plastic barrier Miguel had affixed to her clitoris, his form of discipline for her poor grades.

I captured Miguel's hand and placed it against my sex, letting him explore my wetness and swollen clit. Then I mirrored the action with Sara's restricted anatomy.

"If you invite someone to make love, shouldn't they be allowed to feel it completely?" I whispered against his ear, my other hand caressing his hardened penis.

"Put that mouth to better use," he murmured in response, his fingers parting Sara's labia to reveal her vaginal opening and the blue plastic patch that covered her clitoris.

His eyes locked with Sara's as I spread her legs and kissed her most intimate parts. Then Miguel whispered something in her ear for several seconds, words that earned him an eager kiss from her

I began receiving Miguel's attention too; after kissing my legs, he traveled up to the tops of my thighs. His tongue and fingers began caressing the edges of my vulva, but not as I was pleasing Sara.

A fleeting lick followed by a touch.

A "You taste so good" accompanied by a nibble or kiss, a parting of labia and fingering, then an endless pause. He was driving me wild.

Sara was flowing in my mouth, her vagina rhythmically squeezing my fingers as my saliva finally succeeded in loosening the adhesive covering her pleasure button. She was about to climax for the first time long before Miguel would give me what I craved.

As I had predicted, Sara was already at maximum arousal. Shortly after I'd removed the adhesive that prevented her from reaching climax, Sara exploded. My hand was violently expelled from her vagina by her contractions as she moaned "Hooh! Yesss!" I couldn't properly follow the details of Sara's orgasm or appreciate the movements of her belly, because that was the sign Miguel needed to stop teasing me, to stop torturing me with promises, and begin giving me pleasure with his mouth and fingers, as only he knew how.

Sara, still experiencing the waves of her orgasm, began kissing my mouth and face.

"Miss, you taste so good, I love it," Sara told me, her eyes and face glowing with pleasure. I didn't tell her it was her own essence from her vagina that coated my face. I was more focused on my own vulva and the unrestricted attention Miguel was finally giving it. I couldn't respond to her properly, but it felt good to be embraced by Sara. She was special to me, almost like a daughter, my most gifted student, whom I'd known since she was 13.

"Sara, Miguel, stop! Stop! I'm going to...! Don't both!" But naturally, neither of them stopped. Sara continued kissing and caressing my breasts and nipples; Carla's slutty ways had taught her well. And Miguel, I didn't know where or with whom he'd learned, but he could play my body like a violin, had from day one.

"No, no... I'm going to... I'm going... don't stop! YEEESSS! YEEESSS! AAAAAH!" They both turned me into a screaming wild woman, but I didn't care. My body pulsed with pleasure, my breasts were firm, my nipples erect and hard as Sara continued kissing, biting, and sucking them.

My vagina throbbed around Miguel's fingers, my clitoris responding to his expert lips and tongue. I don't know which one was responsible, but I was having one of those intense orgasms I'd remember when I'm old and wrinkled--these two lovers I loved, each in their own way. Perhaps I was the responsible one.

As the last waves of pleasure subsided and my breathing gradually returned to normal, I noticed Miguel watching us both with an expression of deep satisfaction. He was the only one of us who hadn't reached his own pleasure yet, though I knew he derived intense satisfaction from witnessing women in ecstasy. Now I wanted to change that.

I shifted my position, arranging myself between them with Sara on one side and Miguel on the other.

"You know I'm completely in love with you, don't you?" I murmured, no real question in my voice.

He wrapped my hand around his manhood. "Nah, you're just using me for my talented cock."

We both dissolved into giggles. "Well, that's part of it," I admitted between kisses. "But you also do incredible things with that tongue of yours."

"This tongue?" He flicked it playfully at my nose before capturing my mouth, our tongues dancing together in a familiar tango.

"Ugh, twelve years of watching you two play Romeo and Juliet... kill me now," Sara interrupted, her fingers already exploring my wetness. Her touch was deliberately clinical as she spread me open. "Sir, just so we're clear--it goes here."

Miguel laughed. "Perhaps I'll put it in your cheeky mouth first."

I felt Sara's body jump; she had received a shock, but it wasn't strong. Miguel had developed a whole range of shocks since Sara had been with us, and this had been merely the equivalent of a smack on the bottom.

"Stop it, you two! Miguel, your penis has a home, and it's not that cheeky mouth," I said while guiding him inside me, feeling each centimetre as he slowly penetrated me, my muscles contracting before yielding to accommodate him.

"Mmmmm!" I moaned when I felt him completely inside me.

"Miguel, you're so good, so thick," I whispered to him before giving him a short kiss. "Let me get on top of you." I didn't have to ask twice. He embraced me, and with one thrust, I was lying on top of him, my breasts compressed against the hairy chest of my owner, my love, whilst I felt the slow movements of his penis inside me, like the waves of a calm sea. We both looked at Sara beside us, and without a word, she realised her time there had ended.

"We watched as Sara left the room, just a shadow moving through the candlelight. He then caressed my back, running his hands down to my bottom and gently parting my buttocks."

"Squeeze them, tell me I have a beautiful arse," I said to him, biting his neck and shoulder.

"You know I adore your white arse, and these lovely breasts too." I received a resounding smack on my buttock.