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LITTLE BEAR GIRL

3 / 4

Private Service

Luca Berlin

Cover: Giada Armani

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

Private Service

Anne was very much hoping for further visits to the old Sieversen. She was burning with curiosity not only to learn more about the special training, but also about the life of the old man. What had he done wrong? And what had become of his Minou?

For the time being, however, nothing came of it. The Baron of Distress tortured them during the next two days practically from morning to evening with his maidenhood business, and on Thursday, while sitting at the breakfast table, the head nurse announced that Anne and Dascha would be on duty in the library from noon.

The prospect of working with Dascha would have made Anne groan normally. But in the last two days her "second favourite topic of conversation" had changed. Dascha, too, seemed to have caught on how unpopular she had become, so she rose from the ashes. She was now friendly and helpful. In dealing with crew she always held back and seemed to seek blame and punishment deliberately, so to not outshine the other girls. Anne, who was still sitting next to her in maidenhood class, could see first-hand how her mouth turned into a very narrow line and a steep angry wrinkle twisted the skin of her forehead. It took a while for her expression to go back to normal. But the girls reacted enthusiastically to the new Dascha. Beatrice, for example, seemed very keen on her now.

Again and again Dascha also sought Anne's friendship. The welcome party and the prospect of a male master occupied the girls a lot, and so the two talked about it extensively. Anne found it somewhat strange how important it was for Dascha to get the most sought after and high-ranking alpha possible. When Anne told of Florence and her master, the French actor, she was very excited and imagined what it would be like to be chosen by such a "megastar". As if they had been best friends for years, Dascha also entrusted her with intimate and personal matters. In the most endearing gleeful tone of voice she confided, "if only I had my cuddly toy, my Teddy with me at night. Then everything would be much easier." And she asked Anne for advice. "I don't think Miriam likes me at all. What can I do?"

She was always too much, whether it was good or bad. But that was her personality, Anne thought. After all, they treated each other quite impartially during their work assignments, even though their activity was once again quite dull. Of course, they were not to handle the books or perform any demanding tasks. They had to mop the library's floor. They worked side by side on all fours, always cleaning one of the reddish-brown stone blocks at a time. Each of them was equipped with a mop and a heavy metal bucket with soapy water. If the whole cuboid shone wet with lye, at the same time even the most trained of eyes could not spot a speck of dirt on it, only then they would crawl to the next ones. At least they didn't see the area they still had to clean, but only the piece they had already worked on, Anne thought.

In Anne's eyes, the area allocated to them was practically the size of a football pitch. Weren't there machines for that, too? Full of inner indignation, she immediately gave herself the answer. For sure the castle had the latest technology in cleaning gadgets, which would have completed this task within minutes. But the opportunity to let the new betas slide back and forth on their knees was, of course, not to be missed.

As always in that hospitable place, their physical health was also taken care of conscientiously. After all, only their minds should be tried, not their appearance. Before it started, they had to put on knee pads to not chafe their skin against the rough floor. To protect their hands from the lye, the alpha, who apparently ran the library, had given them these terrible yellow rubber household gloves. The man, who reminded her of a beetle with his high forehead and his strangely short arms and legs, had meticulously checked whether the girls had also pulled them up to the elbows. Not without pressing so tightly on her that Anne could clearly feel his erected member. The mixture of lust and reluctance she captured had made her almost dizzy. With all her strength she tried at least not to fall into her nervousness habit of picking on the little bell. As lustfully as the man stared at her mouth, she had only partially succeeded.

The beetle man and all his fumbling had distracted them so much they had hardly noticed their surroundings. Only when she and Dascha squatted alone in front of their buckets did she let her gaze wander through the hall. It was the most magnificent library she had ever seen. Since the main room was two storeys high, it seemed to reach the dimensions of a station concourse. Nevertheless, it created an almost cosy atmosphere. The vaulted ceiling was painted with intricate ornaments in silver and emerald green, the colours of the organization. Lush chandeliers provided a soft, pleasant light. About a quarter of the room was reserved for the readers. Wonderfully inviting seating areas were furnished for them. There were a sofa over the thick carpet, an armchair and a desk together with an office chair and a computer. The remaining three quarters of the hall were occupied by the bookshelves. They were made of wood in an unusual dark red colour and were so high that the upper rows of books could only be reached by ladders. Each shelf was pierced in three places by wide semi-circular passages so that there were three main paths through the realm of books.

A library of this size had to have an enormous stock. Anne spotted endless series of apparently erotic and pornographic literature. But there were also sections of medicine, law, technology and history. While wiping, they came so close to some shelves that she could finally read the titles on the spines of the books.

How Anne would have liked to have taken books out and looked at them, just as she would have done in another life as a student of German language and literature. Now she hardly dared to touch her carefully and stealthily with her fingertips. Some seemed to offer answers to many of her questions. "The Psychology of the Slave" by Friedrich Magnus was there. Even a book by Ben Abner, "Are we all a little beta? Why Alphas and Betas are much more similar than we think," was the name of the title, which was certainly incredibly provocative for alphas.

Other books made her shudder. A Professor Friedhelm Hundhausen wrote the book "Branding - safe and durable". Another of his books was entitled "Extreme Body Modifications in Betas - Ten Field Reports".

A real writer also seemed to be a man named Phillippe de Ortega. "The slavery in the southern states of the USA and what we can learn from it", he had written, as well as "The future of the organization Magnus - A Controversy" and a thin volume called "Slain Sadists - from the compulsion of outdated moral concepts".

A really charming contemporary, this Ortega, Anne thought. Then she read the title of his fourth book and was literally electrified: "Raw mares retract - the manual for beginners and professionals".

"Mare" was the word that Sieversen used. What might that mean? Quickly she looked around and wondered if she should take the book out. But she didn't dare. The library was too confusing, the risk of being surprised too great. She didn't even want to think about what they would do to her if they caught her browsing there.

Frustrated, she began to work the floor slabs as hard with the mop as she wanted to rub off the top layer of granite. Dascha gave her an astonished and questioning look, but she didn't feel like explaining it. Full of envy and anger she looked at the alphas, who had made themselves comfortable to read in the sitting corners.

And there she saw him. Adrian Götz, was sitting in one of the seating areas. He must have come in at some point when she had so indulgently explored the book titles. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice her. He had settled in an armchair about 30 meters away and was now sitting at her side.

A maid crouched at his feet ready to serve. Disgusting how they surrendered their naked breasts to him, hoping at all times that a caress would fall off for them. But she probably would have to wait a while, because Götz seemed to be deeply absorbed in his reading. He had crossed one leg, his arms resting on the armrests. He had his head a little crooked.

That looked so normal, and yet it was different from all the people she had seen so far. Comfortable, his posture was almost dreamy. Nevertheless, there was a tension in it, which made Anne think of TV recordings of felines of prey in Africa. They dozed peacefully in the savannah and yet it was clear that sooner or later they would rise to beat their targets. This guy was a real violent man, a professional criminal - undoubtedly.

And how long and curly his black hair was. In the back, they even reached up to the collar of his shirt. "But that doesn't look very military, Mon Colonel," she thought and felt a strange desire to dip her hands in this fluffy flood of hair. And even stranger: She didn't know if she wanted to rip out all his hair or if she wanted to let it glide gently through her fingers.

Like he did with hers? That day on the lawn in front of the castle - after he had beaten them, shown them and humiliated them endlessly, in order to comfort them a little in his "infinite goodness". No, he was the head villain in the game. Any kind of kindness and mildness was out of place. She had by no means even listed the entire indictment against him. There was also a mean lie on it, "you are safe now," he had said at the time when he had killed the bear and acted like a great saviour in order to rape her - we are now coming to the main charge, High Court.

She clapped the wet mop so hard on the next floor slab that the splashes flew all the way to Dascha and scared the girl and looked up a little angrily.

"I only hope that he will not become my master in the second phase of education," she whispered and looked at the head of security. Dascha followed her gaze. Then she said, "I thought, you and him, you'd be something of a couple. Often enough, you've been working together."

Dascha sounded honestly surprised, but Anne was still outraged. Her voice trembled. It was hard for her to speak quietly. "He raped and tortured me."

"So what, you're standing on it, otherwise you wouldn't be here," Dascha fluted, and when Anne, speechless with anger, didn't reply, she continued, "and as you moaned when he got it for you from behind in the woods back then. That was really not to be overheard."

"The son of a bitch..." Anne stopped in fright. She had talked way too loud, but no one seemed to notice. She continued quietly: "He has exploited my weakness, my fear, my anger. I was full of adrenaline. You have no idea," she explained and knew for herself how awkward that sounded.

"Yes, of course, darling. Sure," Dascha replied. It was just too clear what she actually had in mind.

Anne hissed: "Not everyone is such a slime like you. I don't crawl up everybody's ass to be their favourite maid."

That had been done. Dascha's mouth had once again turned into a narrow line. But she was quick on her feet. Almost equanimous, she said, "Well, if you want to know my opinion. I think this guy has a crush on you. Just like he fingered you in front of the castle. He didn't even let you go anymore. Besides, you absolutely deserve the beating. You were fucking lazy that day. I saw that. I wish I had warned Blue; he would have put you in place. After all, we're supposed to control each other. That's what Mrs. Rüschenberg said!"

Anne decided to answer only with silence. Dascha hadn't changed at all. She was a disgusting kiss-ass, as Miriam had recognized so beautifully.

As Dascha also remained silent, for a while only the scraping of the knee pads on the stone floor and the clapping when they banged their wiping mobs on the plates could be heard. Both did it with such angry power that the soapy water splashed around everywhere.

Finally, they approached the end of the surface and slowly Anne felt just too tired to keep swinging the mop so wildly. Dascha seemed to be in a similar position. She, too, had shifted down a gear. Besides, at least Anne was distracted by something else. A low, small table now half covered her in front of the readers and on this table stood a plate of chocolates. Some user of the library had perhaps ordered him to sweeten a particularly boring reading. Then he had gone and no maid had carried him away yet. Anne stared longingly at the chocolates. Chocolate! And how delicious they looked. Anne could practically taste it on her tongue already.

Dascha had been watching her. Now she smiled a bit embarrassed and explained in a contrite way, "I'm really sorry about just now."

Then she pushed her hand to the plate in a flash and grabbed one of the chocolates. "Please, a gift of reconciliation. Nobody can see us here. Take it."

Anne just couldn't resist and pushed her into her mouth. "I'm sorry, too," she mumbled with her cheeks full, then left the taste to her. It was wonderful. The candy literally exploded on her tongue. A new chocolate-flavoured universe. A pink button, which worked even without Attila of restlessness, philosophized her blissfully as the chocolate melted into her mouth. She quickly looked around to see if they were not being watched.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out," said Dascha, then she explained with a meaningful look at the head of security: "I think he's pretty cute and would love it if he were my master. That's why I wanted to know if there was anything going on between you two."

"Cute? I hate him," Anne said and grabbed another chocolate. Just one more. There were so many on the plate, no one would notice.

"So I can have him, then?" Dascha asked.

Anne looked at her without understanding and forgot to eat the other chocolate. She nodded, "of course."

Then Dascha got up and went over to Götz. Anne was so perplexed, she didn't move. Dascha's behaviour was so unexpected, it seemed completely unreal. The girl curtsied before Adrian Götz and waited for permission to speak. When she was granted this, she said with a loud voice and to Anne's infinite horror, "I want to report that Bell is eating chocolate, Mr. Götz."

Anne was staring in panic. She was only able to put the second chocolate into her mouth like a reflex, but somehow she couldn't chew or swallow anymore. Also, her legs did not want to move any longer, so that she remained kneeling. At the same time, everything was now going in slow motion. As if the great sadist in heaven or anywhere else had made sure that the horrible thing that was now undoubtedly to come would slowly and painfully befall them.

The head of security approached meekly. Dascha fluttered in her yellow rubber gloves, the black knee pads and the white underwear like an exotic colourful bird around him.

"Open your mouth," commanded the robber chief as he approached.

Anne was far too horrified to react. She couldn't even swallow. With big eyes she stared at the captain without even thinking that this was forbidden as well.

"Open your mouth," Götz ordered once more.

She shook her head. Her bell rang like crazy. This just couldn't be happening. She came from a bourgeois home. She was a student from Hamburg. A normal girl. No, a grown woman who led a self-determined life. She was Anne Ludwig. She liked the films of Doris Dörrie and she knew her way around feminist literary theory. She was Anne Ludwig...

"Stand," the robber captain commanded sharply, and the spell was broken. Reflexively she went into the required position.

"Open your mouth."