"Twenty-one ... I think. Is it past July 21st?"
"Yes, today is July 24. Your birthday?"
"Yes, master," I said, fighting back a tear. In the shock of my new life, I had completely forgotten.
"Happy birthday," he said. He was smiling.
"Thank you, master."
"How long have you been a slave?"
"A few weeks, master."
"What did you do before that?"
"I was a student at UCLA, master." The memories began to get the better of me.
"What did you study?"
"Political science, master. I planned to go to law school."
He laughed. "Well, I see things have changed a great deal for you."
"Yes, master," I said, blushing with humiliation. What a difference a few weeks had meant. I could not be farther from the fast track to success than I was now - kneeling naked and bound for inspection before a man capable of extracting any service he chose from me.
"Do you like being a slave?"
"Yes, master." I knew the answer.
"What do you like most about slavery?"
"Giving pleasure to my masters."
Many of the questions were formulaic. We had learned the answers to them in our classes. We existed to serve our masters. We were absolutely obedient. We wanted nothing more than to please our masters. Our bodies were constantly available for use by our masters. Some of his questions were more probing, however. How many boyfriends had I had? Had I served them well? How would I serve them if I saw them now? What would I do if I could be free again?
Finally he reached into his briefcase and took out a whip. He tossed it across the room behind me. "Fetch," he said.
I struggled toward the whip on my knees and bent my head down to pick up its handle in my teeth. I turned to face him. "On your belly," he said. I lowered myself to my belly and squirmed back to him, my hands still bound behind my back. My breasts and thighs ached from rubbing against the floor. Finally I lay on my belly at his feet. At a motion of his hand, I struggled back up to my knees and offered him the whip handle from between my lips. He smiled. He grasped the whip handle and pushed it in and out of my mouth, simulating the act of raping my mouth. I closed my eyes and pretended I was in fact serving a man, dedicating all the skills of my mouth and tongue to the inert whip handle. He withdrew the whip from my mouth and walked around behind me, pushing my head to the floor, my bottom now raised high in the air. Then suddenly I was penetrated by the whip handle. I could feel its solid mass pushing in and out of me, tormenting my previously aroused body and mocking my slave's body. "You may relieve yourself or not, as you choose," he said. I steeled myself to resist, not wishing to let him bring me to climax in such a degrading fashion. But as the whip continued its inexorable domination of my body, I began to lose control over my feelings, my resistance already weakened by the "preparation" I had undergone. Finally I gasped my submission, my hips shaking uncontrollably. I pressed my face to the floor, hoping to sink into it and vanish.
I felt the whip withdrawing from me. The man came back in front of me and pulled me back into a kneeling position by my hair. Then he replaced the whip handle in my mouth, forcing me to clean off the evidence of my own submission. Tears in my eyes, I obeyed.
"You are clearly a hot slut," he pronounced as I continued to suck on the whip. "That will make you easier to control." I lowered my eyes, shamed. "Now let's see if you can beg to please a man."
He pulled the whip out of my mouth. I looked up at him in anticipation. He wanted me to beg.
"Please, master, I beg to serve you," I began. I leaned up and forward with my body, presenting myself to him. "Please let this slave attempt to give you pleasure. Let me take you in my mouth, or between my legs, or anywhere you desire. I will be hot, and wet, and wonderful for you." I half closed my eyes and licked my lips slowly. I let my hips pulse back and forth in anticipation. "I beg to be taken, and raped, and dominated, master. I long to have you inside me, to feel you having your way with my body, using me like the slut I am." I was only following his instructions, of course. But I could not deny that there was some truth to what I was saying. I did want to be raped, in part because Claudia had commanded me to serve this man, but in part because my aroused body was aching to be had.
"You may begin with your mouth," he finally said.
"Thank you, master," I said as he opened his pants. This, at least, I knew how to do, I told myself. I opened my mouth and began to practice my trade, running my tongue along him, gently coaxing him into my mouth, swirling my tongue as I had practiced in my classes. I knew I was a slave and that there was nothing I could do about that. I knew that, like it or not, this is what I had to look forward to. And at that moment, if I had to be a slave, I wanted only to be a good slave, to demonstrate that I was worthy of interest and bidding. I found myself wanting desperately to please Claudia, to give this man and the ones that would follow so much pleasure that I would bring a high price. I could feel myself slipping into that emotional ocean of submission where nothing exists except the master, and the slave's absolute desire to worship and serve him.
Then, without warning, he withdrew from me. "What a slut," he said. I hoped I could detect a trace of affection in his voice. "Turn around and bend over." Knowing what was coming next, and with part of me hungering for it, I obeyed. I felt his hand on me. He could feel how wet I was. I resisted the urge to climax right then. "You want me to take you, don't you, slut?" he said.
"Yes, master," I gasped, trying to prevent my hips from pressing back against him. "Please, master. Your slave begs you to take her. Please."
Then he plunged into me. My body opened and enveloped him gratefully. His powerful, dominating strokes left me gasping for breath, my breast heaving. Then I felt him climax within me, and I let myself over the edge, my hips jerking in helpless orgasm.
"Thank you, master," I said when he finally withdrew. I had never before been so truly thankful for a master's use, both physically and emotionally. Suddenly remembering my duty, I pulled myself back to my knees and offered my mouth to clean him off, savoring the aftertaste of his conquest. Although I had been the captive victim of his ruthless onslaught, I felt nothing but a surge of joy and gratitude.
I could feel the residue of his use dripping from my body onto the hardwood floor. He pointed down between my legs. "Clean up after yourself, slut," he ordered. I looked up at him, questioningly. My hands were still bound behind my back. He reached absent-mindedly for his whip. Without being asked again, I inched backward and leaned my face down toward the small puddle that had formed on the floor. With my tongue and lips, I gathered the mixed liquids into my mouth and swallowed. I felt thoroughly humiliated. But such humiliation, I knew, was a simple attribute of my position in life.
Finally I returned to my kneeling position and looked up at my potential owner. "How may I serve you, master?" I asked.
Although he was only with me for about two hours, he found many other ways.
And so the day progressed. After the Japanese businessman was a Russian one, and after the Russian was a light lunch, and after lunch an English businessman. Between buyers I was allowed to shower and "freshen up," but then I was once again pitilessly aroused by a slave girl kneeling between my legs. I would go to each buyer a hot slut begging to be used. I am sure all the buyers were well aware of the trick, but perhaps they expected it. By mid-afternoon I had lost count of the rapes, beatings, and other indignities I had suffered. I had been poked, prodded, and pinched in parts of my body I had previously never dreamed of exposing to such attentions. My hips and thighs were sore from use, and the aftertaste of repeated violations clung to the inside of my mouth. I had passed through eager obedience and enthusiastic service to emotional numbness. I longed for my classes in slavery, where I had been able to lose myself in striving to be a model student.