"How was she?" I heard the same man ask.
Melissa looked straight at me. "Hot and wet," she said, smiling. "I think she wants more." Everyone at the table laughed, masters and slaves alike. I lowered my head, blushing.
Cristina seemed to be playing recklessly, staying in almost every hand even with poor cards. I wondered if she was consciously trying to test my limits tonight. "I'd like to see her naked," another man said the next time. Cristina looked at me, her eyebrow raised. I nodded my head numbly.
"Well, get on with it," Cristina ordered. I rose to my feet, stood as straight as I could, untucked the cloth behind my back, and let it drop to the floor. I stood bare-chested before a room full of virtual strangers. My eyes still on the floor, I reached behind my hips and unwrapped my final veil. I hesitated and looked at Cristina. Her eyes were hard. I lowered my head and dropped the cloth to the floor. Now I wore nothing more than my collar, a naked slave at the mercy of her masters. Conscious of their gazes on me, I sucked in my stomach, pulled back my shoulders, and pushed my chest forward. I hoped they liked the naked body they saw before them. No doubt they were speculating about what uses they would put it to later that evening.
"Turn around slowly, my dear," Cristina said. I obeyed, displayed like any decorative object. "Put your hands in your hair. Spread your legs. Bend over and grasp your ankles. Now get down on all fours. Crawl all the way around the table." I obeyed her every command, tears in my eyes at the humiliation. I could feel my breasts swaying beneath me as I circumnavigated the table. My hair was falling about my face, thankfully preventing me from seeing the expressions on their faces. "On your back. Split your legs and grasp your ankles." Now I was completely exposed to them, and as a slave, unable even to close my legs together. I could hear them discussing the details of my figure and anatomy. Most of what I heard was complimentary, but some was directed at my shortcomings, which were clearly apparent in the company of Sonja, Eva, and Melissa.
"OK, you can kneel here again," I heard Cristina say. I dutifully crawled back to my position and knelt as I had been taught. Now kneeling nude, I was even more conscious of the symbolism of this position, my charms brazenly exposed to view.
Eva was made to dance nude to an apparently Arabic melody before the group, her hips and belly swaying sensuously to the music, expressing her complete submission and availability, promising unlimited depths of pleasure. Melissa gave one man a lap dance, nude, caressing his body passionately with her thighs and breasts.
But Cristina kept losing. The man who had first made me kiss Melissa held her chips. "I think we should give her what Melissa said she wants." He paused. "I want Melissa to pleasure our new guest with her mouth."
"Well, Jenny, what do you think?" Cristina asked. This was something I had never anticipated. I had expected to be the one kneeling on the floor, putting my lips and tongue to their most appropriate use - not to have a lovely slave serving my pleasure. Perhaps this didn't count as being raped, since I was the one benefiting - or perhaps it was just that I had become so aroused already that I desperately wanted some form of release.
"Yes, mistress," I said. "I'm willing."
I was laid down on my back over a glass coffee table, my wrists bound above my head to the far legs of the table. Melissa knelt between my legs. "I'd like to shave the slut first," she said, a wicked gleam in her eye. And so, bound over a table, in full view of all assembled, my most private regions were shaved completely bare, leaving me more naked than I had thought possible. And then I felt Melissa's mouth on me, alternately soft and hard, slow and fast, cool and hot, bringing me to a state of piteous arousal but never giving my body the release it needed. "Please ... please ..." I whimpered after a few minutes, no longer caring what anyone thought. I heard laughter and voices, sounding distant as though at the far end of a long tunnel.
"Look at the slut. Watch how the arches her back and thrusts her hips out."
"This is a new slave, Cristina?"
"Where did you find her?"
Then Melissa withdrew, leaving me to my humiliating arousal. So this was one of the ways that a slave could please her masters - entertaining them with her helpless, captive arousal, only to be cruelly frustrated. Whether I was satisfied or not mattered not to them. My wrists were released from their bonds, and I returned on all fours to my post next to Cristina's chair, sobbing quietly. I knew already that pleasuring myself would be grounds for punishment. I could only kneel mutely and hope that the next master to claim my services would use me in such a way as to permit my own satisfaction.
The stakes were increasing and the end of the game nearing. One man amassed large numbers of each person's chips and announced a special hand to determine which slave he would claim next. In preparation, all four slaves knelt with our heads to the floor, our hands clasped behind our heads, in position to await the outcome. We heard the cards being dealt and played to determine which of us would be raped. I alternately prayed and dreaded that I would be chosen, torn between my shreds of dignity and my body's desperate yearning for release. I heard the man rise from his chair and come around behind us. My body was wet in anticipation, ready to be penetrated and used. But instead, it was Eva who was the subject of his attentions. Not yet released from my position, I listened to her moans and cries as she ultimately yielded. I was thankful that I had not been forced to so clearly demonstrate my helplessness and submission. But at the same time, I was incredibly envious of her rape.
Fortunately or unfortunately for me, Cristina's luck seemed to turn. Sonja was commanded to take up her place under the table, serving each master in turn while they continued to play. Melissa was thrown on her back over the coffee table and forcibly used by one of the men, she also yielding to his powerful thrusts. I then saw her rise from the table, kneel before her rapist, and clean him with her mouth.
And then the party was breaking up, the masters having satiated themselves with the slave flesh available to them. Cristina indicated that I should dress myself. I looked at her, pleading with my eyes. Was I not to be raped? Could she not see my overwhelming need? But clearly she could see how aroused I was. It was her decision, as my mistress, that I would not be satisfied.
I rearranged the bands of cloth about my breasts and hips. Cristina reattached the leash to my collar and, having said her good-byes, led me out the door and back to her limousine.
Without being asked, I knelt before her and removed the cloth from my body, stripping myself naked before my mistress. "Mistress, your slave begs to please you," I pleaded, tears running down my cheeks. "Please let me demonstrate my submission. Use me any way you want."
Cristina smiled down at me. "Not now, my dear," she said. "There will be plenty of that later."
Chapter 4: The Mansion
That night, Cristina took me home, escorted me to my apartment, and bid me good-night. Rejected once again in my attempt to offer my body for use, I cried myself to sleep - but only after bringing myself to helpless, overwhelming orgasm, imagining that the dinner party had ended instead with my repeated rape by each of the masters present.
The next few days passed uneventfully, although I could think of little other than my new experiences in slavery. I was too frightened to call Cristina, sure that our relationship had changed and that she could now only accept me as an utter, abject slut and slave. I had taken to wearing the collar Cristina had left me whenever I was alone at home, and even sleeping in it, the leash tied around the headboard of my bed, my body otherwise nude under the covers.