"Yes, mistress," I said. "I'll do it."
Cristina smiled. "I knew you would. You may be a sucker for humiliation, but you're still smart." She casually patted me on the head. "Tonight, you're going to be bought by the Brit who was in here before me. Don't ask how I know that. Then you're going to be shipped to a brothel in Paris. You'll find out what that's like soon enough. You'll receive instructions from one of your clients. The code phrase is 'I like daffodils, but my favorite flower is the chrysanthemum.' If any client says that to you, he's one of us, and you can trust him. Do you understand?"
"I like daffodils, but my favorite flower is the chrysanthemum," I repeated. "Got it. Mistress," I added.
"You were really meant to be a slave, Jenny. It'll be a pity to set you free when we're done." She paused. "Well, that's it for now. We still have an hour to spend in here or Claudia will get suspicious. I'm supposed to be test-driving you, you know. Do you have any idea how we could pass the time?"
From the look on her face I could tell that she had an idea. She pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me to my back. My wrists were pinned uncomfortably in the small of my back. She knelt above me, her knees straddling my face, and lowered herself toward my waiting mouth. "You have a lot to learn, slut," she said. "Maybe I can teach you something."
When Cristina's time with me was up, I was once again allowed to clean myself and was then summoned to serve at dinner. The four buyers were guests of the house, but I played no particular role in the evening's activities. Perhaps Claudia wanted them to taste the merits of her other slave girls, to provoke their interest in a future purchase. Or perhaps my body was not being offered to them in order to communicate that now, in order to have me, they would have to pay. Of course, they had had their way with my body repeatedly during the day, so it would be something of an empty symbol.
After dinner I waited in the slave girls' common bedroom, waiting. Other girls tried to comfort me, but I had little patience for them. Did they not know what was happening to me? I was being sold to the highest bidder, who would then own me, completely and unconditionally. Here in the training house, our masters had been restrained by commercial motivations - we were here to be trained, not to be casually and arbitrarily abused. But soon, a defenseless slave in the wider world, anything might be demanded of me, any command might be imposed on me. I had not even a shred of clothing to protect my body from the demands of my future masters. I imagined being tied down and raped by hundreds of men, one after the other, until passing out in shock, only to be forcibly revived to endure my continuing torture. The only thing I had to hold onto was Cristina's promise. Three years and I would be free. I did not know if I could endure that long.
Finally I was ordered to Claudia's office. I entered and knelt before her. Standing next to her was the English man who had "tried me out" earlier.
"Jenny, this is Mr. McGregor," Claudia said. He made the high bid on you, on behalf of his company, and he is now your owner." The shock must have been evident on my face. "You may greet your new master," she finally said.
I remembered then what I was supposed to do. I turned to him, bent down, and began to kiss his feet. "Thank you, master," I said. "I will be absolutely obedient and pleasing, master. Thank you for letting me be your slave." I remembered what he had done to me that afternoon. He had been utterly commanding, and ruthless, and dominant. I had begged him to rape me and finally screamed out my submission to him as he used me for the third time. He had left me with no doubts about what it meant to be his slave.
"Yes, I think she'll do nicely," he said to Claudia, ignoring my efforts to please him. Finally he indicated that I should stop.
"Jenny, you will sleep here tonight. Tomorrow you will be transported to your new home," Claudia said. "You have been an excellent student and have all the makings of a superb slut. I wish you well."
"Thank you, mistress," I said.
"Do you have any questions?"
I don't know where I summoned the courage to ask. "Mistress ... how much did I cost?"
Claudia smiled and turned toward Mr. McGregor. He laughed.
"1.6 million dollars," he said.
Chapter 7: Paris
The next morning, after our group exercise and shower and one final breakfast eaten naked and on all fours from a bowl on the tiled kitchen floor, I was allowed to say good-bye to my fellow slave girls before being "shipped." We kissed and hugged, tears in our eyes. After spending weeks together, virtually all of the time with no clothing other than our collars, it seemed completely natural to clasp another girl's naked body to my chest. Here, although we had been unequivocally taught our slavery, we had shared a routine and a set of experiences. Now, I expected, I would never see any of my sisters in slavery again.
I would be transported to Paris in a simple minivan with tinted windows. I was consigned to two drivers who would see that I arrived at my destination undamaged, Mr. McGregor flying to Paris separately. Claudia did not deign to see me off. No doubt, having pocketed her profit on me, I was gone from her mind, another foolish girl made to pay for her secret desires. I wore nothing except my collar, now adorned with a small brass tag indicating my new owner, the bracelets that held my wrists together behind my back, and a twelve-inch chain that joined my ankles together. The drivers, I would later learn, did not have the keys to my bonds - presumably so that I could not wheedle them into unchaining me, in case I had any notions of escaping en route. I noted that the slack in the ankle chain left me enough latitude to open my knees and thighs for them, either on my back or on my knees. I expected this was a collateral benefit of their occupation.
I was placed on the first bench seat behind the drivers, a long, loose chain padlocked to my collar and to the inside of the van for extra security. The back door was locked and could only be opened from the outside, I had no chance of escape. I would be delivered to my new owners, a new slave for their amusement and pleasure.
One of the drivers, a young, stocky, black-haired man whose name I would learn as Eddy, sat next to me while his colleague Karl drove. "What a pretty little slut you are," he said as he started to caress my breasts with his small but strong hands. "So young, and innocent ... but I can tell you love being a slut, don't you. You love spreading your legs for men, don't you, slut. You love having it in your mouth, in your slutty lips, tasting it, swallowing it, don't you."
His hand was now between my thighs, probing my body. I was still dry from fear, but I could feel my body beginning to respond, uncontrollably. I knew where this was going, and while I had no desire to be raped in the back seat of a van, I knew that there was nothing I could do about it, and I would be better off complying with this man's wishes. I did not want an unfavorable report to arrive with me in Paris. "Yes, master," I whispered as sensuously as I could. "I love being a slut. Please use me like the slut I am. Let me take you in my mouth and please you like you've never been pleased before." I licked my lips. As a slave, I had learned early on to adapt my behavior to the preferences of the master, to intuit quickly whether he wanted a hot, eager slut to be enjoyed or a reserved, reluctant girl to be forcibly put to her back and dominated. This, I had been told, was one of my particular skills as a slave. I closed my eyes and let myself indulge in his impatient caresses between my legs, willing myself to become hot and wet for him. Bound as I was, there was little he could expect me to do for him, at least until he positioned me appropriately.