"Shouldn't you be on your knees, slut?" she said coldly.
I swallowed my excuses and lowered myself to my knees. I spread them widely, even though I was wearing jeans. I looked up at my mistress, already feeling the now-familiar stirring between my legs. "Yes, mistress," I said. "I'm sorry, mistress."
She brushed her hand in through my hair. "That's ok, Jenny," she said. "You have a lot to learn, but you show great potential." I wondered what she meant by that. "Well, my car's waiting, so let's get you dressed and let's get out of here."
She opened her bag and pulled out two bands of dark blue cloth. "This one goes around your breasts, and the other goes around your hips," she said matter-of-factly. "You tuck the loose end in back." I looked at the cloth. At least it was opaque this time, I thought. "You can use the bathroom," she said, smiling.
I rose to my feet, took the clothes, and went into the bathroom. Well, I should have known it would be something like this. I took off my clothes and looked in the mirror. There was really nothing there that hadn't been on display to hundreds of people last week. I wondered how long it would be before those full breasts and soft hips would again be exposed to view. I wondered if this evening's dinner guests would find them satisfactory. I hope they would.
Each band of cloth was long enough to wrap around my body almost twice. The one for my hips was about six inches wide, allowing me to cover the area from the tops of my hip bones down to a couple inches below my crotch. I started it at my left hip, and wrapped it in front of my body twice before tucking it as tightly as I could in back. I simple tug, I knew, and it would be around my ankles, baring my charms to view. I wrapped the top, which was only about four inches wide, around my breasts twice and, after a bit of a struggle, managed to tuck it in as well. I looked at myself again in the mirror. Most of my breasts were visible above and below the cloth, their curves clearly delineated. My hips were more or less covered, but I knew if I were to bend over that my modesty would be entirely compromised. Just as last time, my garment was open at the bottom; there was not even the flimsiest shield of cloth to stand between me and a master's predations. I supposed that was as it should be. A slave girl should always be open and available for use.
I walked out of the bathroom, stopped in front of Cristina, and knelt as she had taught me, my knees widely spread, my breasts lifted up and forward for her inspection. I lifted my eyes to her, hoping for a favorable reception. She looked down at me and smiled.
"You look marvelous, my dear. Any man who sees you will be tempted to tear off your clothes and take you on the spot."
I shuddered, thinking about how dangerous it would be to be a beautiful slave. In my ordinary life I could usually protect myself from the demands of men who might desire my body. As a slave, however, I would be at risk of forcible usage by any man or woman who cared to possess me. I would simply have to comply with his or her wishes, fully and submissively.
"Down on all fours," Cristina ordered, pulling her riding crop from her belt for emphasis. Terrified, wondering what I had done, I lowered myself to hands and knees, my hair falling over my face. "Now, crawl away from me to the other side of the room and turn around." I did so, my breasts swaying gently under me. I turned and faced her. "Now get down on your belly and clasp your hands behind your back." I obeyed, my breasts now pressed against the hard floor, my head lifted off the ground to see her. "Very good," Cristina said. "Now crawl back to me on your belly and kiss my feet." Why was she doing this to me? What was she putting me through my paces like a trained animal? Tears in my eyes, I began to inch across the floor on my belly. "Hurry up, slut!" she shouted, and snapped the crop in the air. I redoubled my efforts, squirming towards my mistress's feet, utterly humiliated. When I reached her, I began licking and kissing frantically at her shoes, hoping through sufficient passion to convince her of my sincere obedience. I felt the end of the crop tracing lazy circles across my back and moaned softly.
"You may desist, slave," Cristina said. I tried to look up at her. "Kneel as you were before." I obeyed. She pressed her crop to my lips and I kissed it fervently. "That was a test of your obedience and docility," she said. She paused. "You passed with flying colors. You clearly have the makings of a truly submissive slave." I blushed deeply. Not only had I obeyed her least command instantly, but in the process I had actually become aroused. Just crawling across the floor, licking my mistress's shoes, and kissing her whip had left me weak with desire. I wondered if Cristina could sense my piteous state.
Cristina reached down and snapped the end of a chain leash on the ring on my collar. "Now we're ready to go," she said. She picked up my keys from the kitchen counter and led the way out of the apartment, locking the door behind her. I followed her down the stairs and out the door to her waiting car. Groups of people turned and stared as the collared and leashed slave girl followed her mistress into the limousine, her scanty clothing hardly concealing the delights of her body. Instead of sitting on the seat, I instinctively knelt before my mistress, my knees spread, awaiting her command. She smiled. I expected her to draw my head toward her and command me to serve her. Now was the moment when I would begin to pay the ultimate price of my slavery, when I would begin learn how to satisfy my mistress's every pleasure. But instead, she reached down to adjust my clothes, revealing even more of my breasts and hips, accentuating my figure even further. "Yes, you make a wonderful slave," she said softly, her hands caressing my naked flanks. "It will be a pleasure to finally take you." My heart fluttered in anticipation.
Eventually the car stopped. The driver opened the door and Cristina stepped out, her slave trailing behind. We were in the large, circular driveway of what looked like late-nineteenth-century mansion. Cristina turned to me. "Remember, you are a slave here. If anyone says anything to you, you obey immediately. Anything less will be punished." She paused. "If anything goes beyond your limits, let me know and I'll take you home. OK?"
"Yes, mistress," I said.
Satisfied, she walked up the steps to the front door. I followed, my heart beating furiously. What lay beyond that door?
Cristina rang the doorbell and the door opened almost instantly. Inside was a young, beautiful, red-haired woman, wearing a low-cut, short-skirted, black sheath dress - and a metal collar. I felt a lump in my throat. Was she truly a slave, or was she just playing a role? Was there a difference? She knelt gracefully, her knees widely spread, lowered her head to the floor before Cristina, and straightened up again. "Thank you for coming, mistress," she said. "My master asks you to join him in the library."
"Thank you, Sonja," Cristina said. "Can you take this slut and make her useful?" she said, indicating me. "Her name is Jenny, and she has almost no experience. You may treat her as you would your own slave." I began to feel afraid. With Cristina I felt some reassurance, but I had no idea what this woman might demand from me. Of course, being given or loaned to another master is something a slave girl must be prepared for and accept. It is part of what it means to be a slave.
"Of course, mistress," the kneeling slave said - with what I thought was a hint of a smile. "I'll take care of her as if she were my own."
Cristina turned to me and said, "Remember to obey her - and anyone else - immediately and absolutely. You only exist to serve and please them."
"Yes, mistress," I said, and she handed my leash to Sonja and walked away through the archway to our left.