Anna's Dream

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Punishment, pain, and sex on the open sea.
10.6k words
4.2
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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.