I understand perfectly what had happened. I had been simply going through the motions, passively obeying his orders, not desperately seeking to please him as a slave girl should. He, the photographer, had seen this in my body, and had known how best to impress on me my slavery. I looked up at him with a kind of awe and gratitude. In making use of my body, he had reminded me of my place, my role in life. From that point, I adopted my poses with redoubled enthusiasm, and my submission radiated from my body. I hoped he was pleased with me.
In the afternoon, I continued my newfound career as a nude model, this time for a video session. It was largely similar to the morning photo shoot, except this time every instant was captured on film as I was put through my humiliating paces. Not only was my physical beauty on display this time, but also my absolute obedience and docility as I instantly complied with the orders given to me. In addition to assuming the many positions of submission and service that are second nature to the slave girl, I was also compelled to lavish my attentions on a variety of objects - kissing and licking the floor, on my knees, or taking a whip handle in my mouth, my eyes half-closed in an ecstasy of submission, or kneeling with my thighs and breasts wrapped around a vertical pole, caressing it helplessly with my hands and lips. I was made to beg my unseen audience to allow me to serve them, to describe in intimate detail the pleasures I could give them, to proclaim in unconditional terms my desire to be taken, and mastered, and used as only a slave girl could be used. I was not, however, and to my relief, made to display my sexual talents directly for the camera. Apparently the potential buyers would be left to speculate on my ultimate worth as a vessel for their pleasure. Of course, the photos and video they would have left little to the imagination.
After the video shoot, I was allowed an unusual moment to relax as the technicians gathered their equipment. I sat against a wall, nude, my knees drawn up against my chest in a vain effort to cover myself. The chain leash I had worn during the last part of the session still dangled between my breasts and through my legs. I stared blankly into space. Until a few weeks ago, only a few boyfriends had ever seen me naked, and then only after weeks of pursuit, presents, and romantic dinners. Now I had been captured on hundreds of photos and hours of videotape, not only completely naked, but ruthlessly exposed and exploited as a purely sexual object. I wondered who would see those images - if they would filter back into the world I used to inhabit, and if my friends and colleagues would see in that wanton, lascivious slave girl the memory of their vanished friend Jennifer Nevins. The occasional beatings and the rapes and the sordid humiliations of my slavery had, so far, taken place within the four walls of this mansion, out of sight of the world. But this, I knew, was the beginning of a new chapter of my slavery, in which I would be publicly available to any man or woman, the kind of girl who with a snap of the fingers could be commanded to open her naked thighs for a master's conquest. At the moment, I felt neither pride nor arousal, only a kind of numb sadness at the fate that awaited me.
After my "portfolio" had been shot, my life returned to something approaching normal, insofar as the term could be applied to my situation. I took up my daily routine again the next day, and found the trainers at least as harsh as they had been previously. Perhaps they knew that I would soon be leaving them, and wanted to ensure that their student did not embarrass them in the outside world. Or perhaps they only wanted to make sure that they took maximum advantage of my available body before it was claimed by a new master. But scarcely a day went by when I was not savagely used, often forced to serve two at once, or tied down with my legs spread to endure a succession of cruel masters. At those times I was thankful that they let me cry, sobbing face down into a cushion while men made quick use of my unprotected body, wondering what I might have done to deserve this brutal treatment. But I knew that whether or not I deserved it was of no consequence. I was a slave, and these things might be done to me.
About a week after the photo and video sessions, I was summoned after breakfast again to Claudia's office. I entered and knelt before her, without even thinking. It was only natural that a slave should kneel before her mistress.
"Your potential buyers will be here, today," she began. "You will be at their disposal for two hours each. You will be absolutely, completely perfect in your submission to them. This evening, they will make their initial bids. Depending on the bids, you will either have a new owner tonight, or we may repeat the process tomorrow. Do you understand me?"
I was too stunned to speak. Only twelve hours from now people I had never met before would be bidding for unconditional ownership rights to my soft, naked body and every charm and attraction it might hold. And in the intervening hours, I would be forced to perform for them as an absolute slave, using all of my talents to elicit as high a bid as possible from them.
The whip snapped across the back of my shoulders. "Slut! Do you understand me!"
"Yes, mistress," I quickly said. "Forgive me, mistress."
Claudia glared at me. "How much money we make on you depends on how well you are able to excite the buyers' desire today. You must be beautiful, and tantalizing, and deeply sensuous, and utterly pleasing. All of the buyers are extremely interested in what they have seen so far. But that must be nothing compared to the delights you give them today."
"Yes, mistress," I said. "I will be absolutely obedient."
I was told there were four groups bidding on me, each of which had sent one representative to the auction. I would serve two of them in the morning and two in the afternoon. First, however, I was "prepared" ... by being strapped down on my back over a table, another slave girl between my knees lavishing her lips and tongue on me. She repeatedly brought me close to climax, each time denying me my fulfillment, letting my helpless gasps and moans and pleas go unheeded. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to twenty minutes, I heard a trainer say, "I think she's had enough." I was unbound from the table and led toward the room where I would serve the buyers, a leash attached to my collar and my hands cuffed behind my back. I would go to my potential masters cruelly aroused, desperate for them to have their way with my body. In my current state, I could be nothing other than a begging, eager slut.
I knelt on the hardwood floor, awaiting my first inspection, my hands still cuffed behind my back, the leash dangling between my breasts and draped over my left thigh. Light flooded into the room from large windows on two sides of the room. Behind me was a simple bed on which I could be forced to demonstrate my skills. I thought about the last thing Claudia had said to me this morning as I left her office. "Their goal is to utterly humiliate you. They want to see how much you can take." I shuddered at the thought, wondering what she could have meant.
I heard a hand on the door latch. I swallowed.
The door opened and a man looking exactly like a Japanese businessman entered. Or maybe that's what he was - a Japanese businessman, here to conduct business. He was on the young side of middle age, not unattractive, in an expensive gray suit. I imagined another setting, where we were meeting across a conference room table, I clothed in similarly expensive attire. Then I realized where I was.
"You are Jenny?" He spoke heavily accented, but perfectly clear English.
"Yes, master," I answered.
"How old are you?"