Thread: Love After a Time of Hate Revamped (Closed for The_PG)

Brunch? She tried not to let it show, but her shoulders sagged a little as he ordered his meal, not because brunch was particularly difficult to make, but because it was still so early in the day. She was exhausted from the sleepless train ride here and from having been torn away from her family so abruptly. Still, she wore a brave face. She bobbed her head, allowing her black curls to fall over her eyes as she did, before carefully exiting the room to leave him to his work so that she might get to hers. As she walked out of his magnificent office, she came across the butler Emil had described. He was tall, handsome, and perfectly groomed much like herself. It seemed what fell short of perfection was either tweaked or eliminated. Perfection, what a standard to not only meet, but surpass. As she looked into the butler's face, she saw a small beacon of hope. She didn't know what she had expected, but kindness certainly was not it. Yet, this man seemed to exude it with a smile that made his eyes twinkle and a voice that was calming. He set her on the right course. Yes, sir. I understand. She replied quietly before following him for a tour of the house. So much of it seemed to be off limits to her for reasons that went unexplained. The West Wing on the second and third floor are...off limits.. She repeated quietly as she stared off in that direction wondering what could be there that was so forbidden. Deep, deep down, she wanted to find out for herself. It was only made worse by the fact that she wasn't being told what the danger was in her going. Shaking the temptation, she followed him silently until they arrived at the kitchen. She tilted her head and offered a sincere smile as thanks for his own as he advised her on how best to serve the Standartenfhrer. So, small and numeral portions were best? Instantly the image of a platter in the design of a daisy with each petal representing a different culinary bite. Wincing as she imagined Emil's face at receiving such a plate, she decided perhaps a simpler design might be accomplished. Reaching out to touch his sleeve before he could get too far away from the door, Ester said, Thank you, umm, sir. I'll take your advice to heart. My name is Ester by the way...were it not for the circumstances that brought our paths to cross...I might say it's nice to meet you. Her smile was notably saddened by the realization that she was merely a slave to the Third Reich. She was just a slovenly, repulsive Jew horse meant to be worked and nothing more. If Ferdinand heard her, he did not acknowledge it short of stopping long enough for her to finish speaking. Then, he said, Good day...Ester. with a small smile and a wink over his shoulder that delighted her more than he could know. He reminded her of her father, perhaps not in appearance, but in spirit. His little nudge put her in a surprisingly good mood, so much so that the chef even seemed a bit surprised. Was this not a young Jewden wrenched from her family and friends to serve the cold Standartenfhrer? Did she not know that this was a prolonged death sentence? A game she had no hope of winning? Yet she was humming as she bounced around in the kitchen in her light blue apron. The tune was sweet and rarely broken as she went about asking for direction around the kitchen only a few times making of herself a very minuscule nuisance in the chef's precise little world. Ester loved to cook and was grateful to be given the chance to do so. As she went through making her dishes, she tasted each one until the seasoning was just right. This did two things. It ensured perfection while also filling her otherwise empty tummy. She doubted she'd be fed anything at all while in her service here, but tasting the food she was preparing for the Standartenfhrer and his guests could be utterly justified. Or, at least she hoped it could. In the end, Ester ended up making ten small portions each with a unique taste, some much easier to execute than others. There were fruits, vegis, eggs, sausage, ham, biscuit, and one sweet dish all separate from the other. Then, as she was loading the plate onto the roll away tray, she backed out of the chef's way as he hauled in a large slab of meat that was to be butchered for tonight's dinner. Beef, it would seem, was on the menu. What Ester had failed to note however was that when she backed up, her butt gently rubbed up against a bag of flower that was left slightly agape. The chef did not catch the oversight, nor did she was she hurried out of the room to serve her first meal to the Standartenfhrer. The closer she came to his office, the faster she could feel her heart beating. There were no tunes to hum or wistful thinking to cloud her mind as she silently marched her tray to the camp commander. She needed him to like this food. She needed him to enjoy her company. These, she believed, were the keys to keeping her family alive and only she could do it. Taking a deep breath as she stood just outside the door for a moment or two, she braced herself to confront him with an air of complete and utter servitude. She had to. It was for her family. Then, without further hesitation, and before she could lose her nerve, she knocked twice before walking inside. His decision to utterly ignore her presence did little to help her nerves, but she tried her best to ignore it. Just remember...you're the lowly Jewden...a humble servant to the Third Reich. You can do this. Obediently she poured his whiskey and presented his plate with a great deal of pride. It was when he commanded her not to move again that she felt a small crack snake it's way into her confidence. Was there something wrong with the food? A hair? Had she picked the wrong drink? No...it looked like that one...didn't it? Her mind raced as she tried once again to think ahead of Emil, but then finally once he was finished scarfing down her delicately prepared meal, he commented favorably on the taste. Her heart soared for just a moment so close to the sun when he mentioned her food was worth giving the people in the camp extra food for the evening, before the word would acted as the flames to her wings and she swiftly came tumbling down. Would? So she had missed something. What? Turns out what she had missed couldn't be found on his plate or in his cup, but instead on her plump little rump. She was hesitant to obey his next command. What would he do when she got over there? Her legs felt like they were stuck to the floorboards as she tentatively made her way over to him, wincing as his hand came out to gently caress her right cheek. A light pinch was all he took before bringing his hand around before her flushed face to sprinkle her sin before her very eyes. I'm very sorry, sir.. She whispered quietly, the butler's warning about cleanliness ringing through her ears at that particular moment. Bobbing her head as he instructed her to pull off her apron, she did so without any further hesitation. She already had a strike against her for making a mess of herself. Adding to it by making him wait would only make things worse now. Lifting the apron up over her head, she stretched just enough so that her slip came up to her belly button revealing her stark white panties for just a moment before she brought her arms back down. Folding the apron neatly in her arms as he scooted back, her eyes flicked from his face to his lap in astonished silence as it dawned on her what was about to happen. At best, she was to be spanked by the madman who held her family's life in the palm of his hands for backing into a sack of flour. She shuddered to think of what the worst possible outcome could be, though she failed to see how this position could kill her. Thinking fast, she decided to play dumb. He had instructed her to lay across his lap, but he didn't say that she had to lay on her stomach. Nodding her head, she proceeded to plop her butt between his legs and lay back so that her head nearly touched the ground. She almost immediately realized her mistake. From this position, he could almost certainly get a tantalizing view of her panties as her slip rode up past her belly button, though no further. She wanted to correct herself, but she didn't know how. She needed him to give her an out. L-Like this, sir? She whimpered softly as she lay in his strong lap. Her little stunt made him almost grin. She was trying to avoid her punishment by playing the fool, but in reality she was only prolonging the inevitable. Still, he'd take his time and make her squirm. Without reservation, he gingerly raked his nails across her exposed naval, watching as her tummy contracted as he did so. He relished the stunned gasp he'd drawn past her lips, but wished to hear so much more. He'd heard her silence plenty, what he wanted now was to hear her scream. In pain, ecstasy, and perhaps a bit of both at the same time. He wanted it all. She was so fun to play with. Already he was amused, though he didn't give her the comfort of allowing it to show.Don't play dumb or try to act cute. You know what I meant. Roll over, Ester. I will add a strike for every second you make me wait.....one...two...thr- Before he could get to three, Ester had flipped herself over onto her stomach, grabbing hold of the legs of his chair with a white-knuckled grip as she braced herself for the beating to come. Well, we'll just count that as three. Three strikes to be added to the beating your laziness has already brought upon you... He mused as he positioned her until her thighs were pressed against the top of his left leg. This pushed her tantalizing little ass high up into the air, making her almost irresistible to touch, but resist he did. For the moment. She was far too tense and ready for her beating. He wanted to instill a bit of doubt first. He wanted to hear her gasp in surprise and scream from the torrent of blows he would lay upon these fine, creamy cheeks. So, he waited for her to relax a bit first. Eventually, she had to. Her body wouldn't allow her to stay so uptight for very long, not with how tired she clearly was. To encourage her, he even gently ran the back of his hand along her unsoiled cheek until he felt the tense muscles in her chest, arms, and legs uncoil. A couple of minutes of this and she was primed. While she wasn't completely relaxed, a marker of her inexperience, he supposed this was the closest he was going to get. Ester just couldn't trust him or his soothing touch. Not when no other man had dared to do so before him. Silently, he drew his hand all the way back while the other slowly slid up her back ready to bare down on her after the first blow that would be sure to send her bucking and fighting to get away from him. Then, with all the might he could muster, he brought down his hand on her firm right cheek with a loud crack making her squeal and wrenched forward as a searing hand print was burned into her skin. Flour flew into the air as he brought his hand down again and again and again, but what was perhaps most thrilling was how Ester reacted. It was perfect. She was actually trying to resist, in her own way. Aside from the initial shocked cry, she only whimpered and gasped as he lit her ass aglow. He couldn't see it, but he could imagine her biting her lower lip until it was rosy pink as she dug her nails into the polished wood of his chair. This excited Emil more than any other reaction she might have. She was like a stubborn child refusing to knuckle under to her parents, but unlike her father, he'd be using a much different type of rod to discipline her very soon. For now, he let loose on her ass cheeks and lower thighs until they were glowing and Ester's face was a mess of stifled tears. Gasping for air, he suddenly stopped before letting loose a devilish grin. That was it, Ester. That was your punishment for being so careless and letting yourself get dirty... He murmured softly as he plucked her lithe form up off his lap with ease and set her up so that she was straddling his knees. He was so calloused in the way that he looked at her tear streaked face with utter disregard as he brought both of his hands around to cup her exquisitely warm buns before kneading her amiable flesh, flexing it between his fingers, making her mouth fall agape in a silent scream from the sting of such a grope. He took full advantage of her open mouth, latching his own onto hers in a tender kiss as he pressed her back up against the desk. Her frozen body, her trembling grip on his arms, and the way she was still crying told him all he needed to know. She'd never been with a man and truly, she was as innocent as she seemed. Breaking the kiss, he grinned into her stunned face before running his tongue over his lips. Your lips are so salty...and sweet. I think I'll have another. He commented before leaning forward to press his lips into hers, though this time she was more prepared for it. Arching as he groped her ass with his fierce fists once more, she dared to lean into the kiss ever so slightly, unwilling to admit outright to herself how much she enjoyed his dominating kiss while his pistol pressed into a warming spot in her panties. Then, as abruptly as this test had began, it ended. He broke the kiss before pushing her off of his lap just as her hips twitched from the stimulation of his groping digits. She would be so easy to mold into his perfect little slut. Maybe, his search might end. With her feet on the floor once more, she was quick to straighten out her outfit before backing away from the Standartenfhrer until her butt tapped the tray. Collecting his plate with a few sniffles and rubs of her spectacular green eyes she was ready to run out of that room and never look back. It took every ounce of her willpower to stay until he waved her away, but before she could walk out of the door he couldn't help but to remind her of one simple truth. Remember, sweet little Ester. You still have three strikes against you...and I never said anything about them coming from my hand. Go about your chores, now. Thank you, sir... She whimpered her reply, her eyes flicking over his before she bobbed her head and turned away quietly shutting the door behind her. She was just too good to be true. Once she was back in the kitchen, she blindly flew through cleaning up after herself, but ensured everything she touched left her hands in immaculate condition. Her chest heaved with every breath as she fought a torrent of tears that wanted to come cascading down, but she refused to let them out. She'd find no mercy if she did, only hatred. From now on, no more mistakes, she vowed. But why? Why had she felt that burning pulse beneath her panties when he was kissing her and groping her abused cheeks? Why had it felt so good to kiss him back? These questions tormented her as she completed her task and awaited Ferdinand's return.