... The idea came to her even as she felt his member tighten. She quickly took hold of his organ with her right hand and moved her head to the left. She aimed at Liudmila as he shot his release.
Anna after oral
Image credit:
https://www.megapixl.com
Past Posts:
Part 1: Where it all began
Part 2: The Interogation
Part 3: Whipping and an orgasm
Part 4: Anna seeing things
Part 5: Her sister slaves explain it to Anna
Part 6: Anna gets some s/m done
unto her for disobeying the rules
Part 7: Anna suffers the consequences
'
“Liudmila, you deserved it,” Uri Konstantine said, as he held out his hand for Anna to take. Anna let him help her up. “I was right about your spunk when I first met you.”
“Master, you're not going to let her get away with this!” Liudmila protested. “You'd give me twenty lashes if I did the same thing.” She stood to face him. “Rules are rules, you keep telling us. You'd think nothing of whipping either of us whenever the smallest drop spills!”
“Yeah, you whipped me for less than this!” Aida added. “And I was just as new.”
“My robe,” he said, trying to end the discussion.
But the two didn't want the discussion to end. They crossed their arms and turned away from their Master in open defiance.
Anna helped him into his robe when the others wouldn’t. She watched the three of them in their standoff, amused but wondering what kind of strange dynamic was working between them. All of a sudden, she understood just as he started to explain.
“They're trying to trick me into punishing them,” he told Anna. “Shall I take their bait?”
“It's not mine to say, sir,” Anna answered.
“Nonetheless, order must be maintained,” he said. “Although your performance was exceptional, it wasn't something I asked of you. You took this task upon yourself. When you did, you also took on the responsibility and the consequences for your playful finale. You will receive twenty lashes for that transgression. Do you accept your punishment?”
“Will it be any harder than when you were interrogating me?” she asked. Anna had controlled the terms of this, their first encounter; perhaps she could control the terms of her punishment, too. “Because, if it is —”
“It will be no more than you can take,” he said
That whipping during the interrogation had scared her. Scared her, that is, until she realized the pain was mostly psychological. When she realized his whip wasn’t tearing her flesh apart, she found she could easily handle it and the fear left her. And now, as she stood before him, she wasn’t afraid of him, either.
image credit: https://www.fotolia.com
Uri Konstantine led her by the hand into the largest bedroom, his bedroom, and instructed her to kneel and lean over the bed. Anna did as she was told and waited patiently while he brought forth his whip.
It seemed like she had to wait forever, but when the whip cracked and she felt the sting on her bottom, her fortitude evaporated. Even though the pain was “mostly psychological” it still hurt, and she still cried out, and she still nearly jumped off the bed. But as the signals from the pain receptors in her bottom reached her brain, she saw her two phantoms again.
They sat on the bed, on either side of her, her bearded old man in the blue robe and the woman in the little black dress. They started to fade a moment later, but appeared again whole when the next crack of the whip landed on her bottom.
She looked to the man, then to the woman. They just sat there, watching her. The whip continued to fall on her bottom rhythmically, not letting them fade away. She knew then that she could only see them in this heightened state of awareness brought on by an extreme assault on her senses.
She reached out for them, surprised when she could touch them; his blue robe was rough but threadbare, and very real; her dress was silk, and equally as real. She could see its label from where she lay, Chanel.
Another crack of the whip. Another jolt of pain. Another few seconds of clarity.
The man took hold of Anna's hand. They were rough and weathered, like his face. Yet, there was sympathy in his touch. The phantom woman, taking her cue from him, took Anna's other hand.
“Do you see them?” Anna asked the other in the room.
“There are a few red spots, but no broken skin,” Liudmila answered.
No, they don't see them, Anna concluded.
“Who are you people?” she asked.
“Just a master and his two slaves,” Uri answered.
“Three slaves now,” Liudmila corrected.
“Is that right, Andromeda?” Uri asked. “Three?”
“Of course,” she said, “three.” Yet her mind was elsewhere. She just wanted to talk to her two visitors on the bed; but every time she spoke, one of her terrestrials answered.
Terrestrials, non-terrestrials, she’d put them all in terms of that report. Did these two interlopers step into our universe through some sort of “door”?
Then the whipping stopped.
“Twenty,” Uri Konstantine declared.
The two on the bed faded. She felt them let go of her hands. She saw their indentations on the mattress flatten.
“More,” Anna cried. “Whip me more!”
“No need to be a hero,” Uri said. “You've had enough.” But to surprise her, he threw one more whip stroke across her back. This one stung Anna harder than the rest.
She looked for the two strangers while the pain still throbbed on her back; they were nowhere to be found. They had left through their invisible door in the universe.
That night, General Konstantine did not call Anna to his bed. She had assumed all along he was going to — after all, she was his sex slave now and he must be eager to taste the fruits of his new conquest. It puzzled her that he didn't, but she guessed that he was giving her time to acclimate to her new life.
“What a farce,” she thought. “He kidnapped me and is now trying to be nice to me; grrr, he's doing the exact opposite.” As she lay in bed, she heard the rhythmic sound of flesh being slapped and the moans and cries of the other two slaves receiving their master's attention. She tried not to imagine what instrument he was using on them: his belt, a paddle, or perhaps a flogger designed for just that purpose. As the night progressed, those moans evolved to gasps of pleasure, and the cries became cries of orgasm; first from one girl, then the other.
Anna tried to fall asleep, disappointed, confused, let down; she wondered why she was so frustrated, she ought to be relieved. It was her renegade body playing tricks on her again. She told herself she should hate him, or at the very least, not to long for him like a school girl would a first crush.
Or, maybe he called Liudmila and Aida to his bed to placate them; even a palace this small has its palace politics. “Yes, that must be it,” she thought. “He’ll summon me tomorrow night.” With her mind at ease, but her body still wanting, she drifted off to a fitful sleep.
Before leaving the following morning, General Konstantine gave his slaves their orders for the day. Anna’s job was to wax and polish the parquet floors of the entire flat. “Seven rooms?” she thought, as he plunked a polishing rag into her right hand and a can of wax into her left.
“But,” she started to protest. She was too stunned to say anything more. She watched as he gave Liudmila and Aida their daily assignments. Either he didn't see her disappointment or he ignored it totally. When he finished dictating his orders to the other two, he just flew out the door. Anna thought he’d placed her in a position of privilege; Anna thought she would be above menial labor; that she’d be directing the others; supervising their work. He’d implied as much yesterday, bolstering her spirits with his words; it turned out she was, indeed, the scullery slave, the lowest of them all.
Anna stood in the living room, too stunned to move. Liudmila said nothing and just went off to do her own tasks. Aida shrugged and said, “The floors don’t look like they need polishing, if you ask me.”
Anna fumed. Anna paced the room. Anna kicked the door. Then, she got onto her hands and knees and started her task.
“He’s testing me,” she grumbled.
The work was hard and dull. Naked, on her knees, stretching her arms and back, she soon started to feel every muscle in her body. By mid-afternoon she’d just finished the first room. And the next room lay beyond a set of double doors. Her body ached, she was exhausted, yet she felt a duty to continue, even if she was unable to finish all the rooms by the time he returned in the evening.
At six o'clock, when Uri Konstantine returned, his three slaves ran to greet him at the door. Anna didn’t have to be told to kneel this time, or how to hold her posture, or be reminded to keep her mouth slightly open, symbolically ready to accept him. “Look, Uri”, she thought, “you posed me this way. Now go ahead and do something with me. After all, you took me to be your sex slave, not your house maid.”
He patted each of them on the head as he entered the house, then bade them to rise to their feet.
The General did not hide his disappointment when he inspected Anna's progress, barely a room and a half done. He asked her to stand at attention for him, then to hold out her hands, palm side up. With a rattan cane, he slapped her across her two palms. She jerked her hand away as she felt the sting.
“Again,” he said.
She reluctantly held them out for him, this time trembling. When he raised his cane, Anna reflexively jerked her hands back.
He made Aida and Liudmila hold her arms out as he delivered another nine smacks.
“I’m not a child,” Anna said, when it was over.
That night was a repeat of the last. Anna slept alone listening to the sounds of wild abandon from beyond her door.
The following morning General Konstantine ordered her to continue her task of polishing the floors, and this time to be more efficient about it.
“Yes, sir,” she grumbled reluctantly.
“Let me see how you do it,” he said.
Anna trembled as she got onto her hands and knees and started polishing a small circle. His booted legs were in her peripheral vision; she tried not to look at them. Then she felt his hand on her bottom. He stroked her gently in small circles. She wondered if he’d take her as she knelt on all fours, exposed for him. A tingle of elicit excitement coursed through her body.
“You need some motivation.” He reached between her butt cheeks and put a finger on her anus.
She shuddered. She stopped polishing for a moment, but continued when her composure returned.
He held something in his hand. She couldn’t see what it was, but it was solid and smooth. He slipped that something into her. It must be a ball, she thought. It was round, too large to be comfortable, but small enough to go inside her. She felt the string it was attached to; felt it tickle her pussy and thighs. She knew it was there so he could remove the ball later. She had gasped when he inserted the ball, and gasped again when he tugged on the string, teasing her with it.
“Am I to leave it in all day?” Anna asked.
“Yes, my dear,” he said.
“But, all day? It'll be so frustrating!”
“I know,” he said. Then he bent down and kissed her on the back of her head. “Be strong.”
image credit:
Forbidden Planet,
1962
Upvote! Comment! Re-steem!
Look for more Erotica, Fantasy, and Science Fiction stories at
Then find me on my web page at http://www.joenobel.com for even more stories, links to my published works, and instructions for getting started with bitcoin if you aren’t already holding crypto.