I was kneeling for the fourth time on the hardwood floor, my hands once again cuffed behind my back, a leash dangling between my uplifted breasts, awaiting my master of the hour, my tears buried back in my tear glands, unseen. And then the door opened and in walked Cristina.
"Cristina," I blurted out instantly. "What are you doing here?" My mind was racing. She was here to buy me, to set me free from the nightmare life of a slave girl. No, she was here to buy me, but to keep me as her personal sex slave, nude and chained at her feet. Or perhaps she was here to tell me that this was all an elaborate joke, orchestrated by her to allow me to indulge my hidden desires, but now completed, leaving me free to resume my old life.
She was silent. She stood directly in front of me, her feet just inches from my knees, and looked down into my eyes. I had never before realized how beautiful she was, her black hair cascading over her shoulders, her powerful, black-clad figure towering over my soft, white body. "Cristina?" I asked hesitantly.
"You've definitely changed, Jenny," she finally began, strolling slowly around my kneeling form. "And for the better, if I may say so myself." She came to a stop in front of me again. "Tell me, do you enjoy being a slave?"
"No!" I said immediately. "You would never imagine what I have to go through, how many times I've been raped and beaten. It's a living nightmare! Tell me this is all a joke."
"Actually, I could imagine quite well," she answered. "Claudia has brought me up to date on your accomplishments here." I was silent. "Apparently you are one of the most eager and talented little slave sluts she has ever had." I lowered my eyes, blushing with shame. "Well? Is that true?"
"Yes. Yes, mistress," I said. "But I only did it because I had to ..."
"We always have choices, my dear," Cristina said. "Now bend down and lick my boots like a good little slut."
Tears beginning to well up into my eyes, I obeyed. I remembered the first time I had bent over her boots like this. It had seemed like only a game, then. Now, I feared, it was something much more real.
"I do have some news for you, Jenny," Cristina said. "But I am not here to free you, nor am I going to buy you, although that is why I am ostensibly here. In a few days, you will be an utter slave slut in the absolute possession of one of the gentlemen who preceded me here today." I began to sob, my tears falling onto her boots where I licked them up with my tongue. To have momentarily believed freedom might be at hand, only to have that hope dashed, was more than I could bear. "But first you will serve me like the slave you are. I want to see what you have learned."
Cristina walked around me and sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward, picked up the loose end of my leash, and tugged, drawing my head forward between her legs. I felt her hands clasping my soft brown hair as she pulled my face and mouth closer to her body. Weeks ago I had stripped myself naked and fallen to my knees before her, begging to be allowed to serve her. Now that wish was being granted.
Delicately, I used my teeth to pull down her panties, alternating from side to side until they were clear of her hips, then pulling them down and over her high heels. Then, taking a deep breath, I lifted my head back under her short black skirt and dedicated myself to her pleasure. I used every trick and nuance I had learned, varying the rhythm, and intensity, and location my tongue's caresses, hoping to show her that I was, indeed, worthy of being owned. Cristina lay back on the bed, her hands still locked in my hair, no doubt relishing my helpless and passionate service.
Finally I felt her thighs grip my head as I brought her to a long and rolling climax. I continued to lick and kiss at her until her hands gently pulled me away.
"Did I please you, mistress?" I asked. Cristina had left no doubt as to the relationship between us.
"Yes, my dear," she answered. I flushed with pride. "You still have a lot to learn, but you clearly have some talent. And Claudia was right - it's hard to find a slave so eager to please. As long as you keep up that zealousness, you'll do fine as a slave."
"Thank you, mistress," I said. Although I was deeply ashamed of it, I knew my ability to block out everything and focus on a master's pleasure, to devote myself wholly and unreservedly to his or her desires, would serve me well as a slave. My life might depend on that utter submissiveness.
"Now listen to me, Jenny," Cristina said seriously, leaning towards me. "What I'm going to tell you is very important, but you cannot tell anyone else, for reasons that will soon be evident. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mistress," I said.
"In case you had any doubts, you are here because I recommended you to Claudia. I am one of her 'talent scouts;' I identify young girls with strong potential to be female slaves and test them." I thought about the day she had invited me to that first "bondage ball." Slowly it all started to make sense. That had been a test. Apparently I had passed it. "If they seem promising, Claudia takes it from there."
"Yes, mistress," I said blankly. Cristina had chosen this life for me. I supposed I should have hated her for it, but I couldn't muster the emotion. She had only opened the door to this life of unremitting sexual servitude; I had stepped through it.
"But I chose you for another reason," Cristina continued. "I'm really helping the German police investigate the white slavery and prostitution industry. We're trying to plant informants into the organization, and I chose you. We need girls on the inside who can let us know what is going on and provide evidence when we finally decide to nab someone. For rather obvious reasons, we can't just plant any old female agent; we don't need someone who can act like a slave girl, we need someone who really is a slave girl, both physically and emotionally. Anything less and they would spot it immediately." She paused. "That's where you come in."
"You want me to be a spy for you?" I stammered. Slipping into the life of a slave girl, completely free of worries and responsibilities - apart from absolute obedience and exquisite sexual services, that is - was something I was more than halfway resigned to. This sounded more complicated, and dangerous.
"After a fashion," Cristina said. "Listen, Jenny, this is the deal. You can say no, and this is the last you'll ever hear from me. You'll be auctioned off tonight, and you'll spend the next ten years begging men to use your soft little body in ways you've never imagined. Within three months you'll have lost your personality and you'll never think any thoughts except how to be the most fantastic sex toy your masters have ever seen. And after ten years, who knows? If you're lucky, you'll be dumped on the street, turning tricks because it's the only thing you can do.
"If you say yes, you spend your time listening to what goes on around you, gathering evidence, and remembering it. Periodically we'll send in a client to pick up the information. If we nail the people we want and the operation ends, you're free to go. You can go back to school and go on with your life. Even if we don't get them, we'll get you out within three years. We'll just buy you if we need to.
"That's your choice. What'll it be?"
I thought rapidly. Cristina was right. Even if I could be contented as a sex slave, how long could it last? What could I look forward to once my cheerful smile and young body were gone? And what she was offering seemed the best possible option. I could continue to live out my slave girl fantasy, but now it would have a happy ending; I would be set free while still young enough to live another life. And who would suspect in me, the perfect, subservient, eager slave slut, an informant?