In the weeks as summer turned to autumn, I also began to attract a set of "regular" clients, for whom I was one of the particular attractions of the club. A client would be allowed to reserve a favorite slave, either for a night or part of one, if he were willing to pay an additional fee. However, a slave girl could only be reserved for up to three nights per week; the other nights, she had to be freely available to whatever client desired her use. (And, of course, being slaves, we had no nights off; pleasing our masters was not an occupation that we deserved rest from, but rather a simple attribute of our condition.)
One of my "regulars" was a wealthy aristocrat from a small Arabian principality. He had a long, un-spellable, Arabic-sounding name, but went among us by "David." He had studied at Cambridge and divided his time between London and his home country, taking the Chunnel on most weekends to enjoy the pleasures of Paris - including those he was able to take from my naked body. He was, as they say, tall, dark, and handsome, a consummate gentleman, and a man who knew how to use a slave girl, as I quickly learned the first night that he chose me for his amusement.
That night, he used me more times than I had imagined possible, and in more ways - first unilaterally, tying me with my legs spread and simply satisfying himself in my flesh, then more creatively, forcing me to serve him in positions I had not known my body could assume, then passionately, driving me repeatedly to painful arousal with his tongue and his hands, finally forcing me to beg, as a humiliated, debased slave, for my orgasm. When he finally untied me, I fell to my knees before him and bent down to lick and kiss at his feet. I was physically and emotionally devastated by the experience, but at the same time I felt a profound sense of joy and satisfaction. I knew that I had served this complete stranger as only a slave girl can serve, had been used as only a slave can be used, but I felt joy in the thought that he had chose me as the girl he would use, that I might have been able to be pleasing to him in some small way. Doubtless, had I not been pleasing, I would have been thrown back onto the floor of the lounge, replaced by another girl of his choice at no additional charge; that he had elected to extract such long and intimate services from my body must have indicated that I had been found worthy of pleasing him. That night, I learned not only that I could be forced to spread my legs for men, or that I could be compelled to respond physically and emotionally to a man's uses, but that I wanted to be so used, that I longed in my heart and my belly to be mastered, stripped naked and thrown to a man's feet to be raped as the slave I was.
After that first night, whenever David entered the club, I would immediately - unless I was serving another client, who would then have complete rights over my body - bring him his favorite drink, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and strip myself naked at his feet, mutely or explicitly begging to be put to my uses. Sometimes he would simply pat me on the head and send me on my way, or sometimes he would indicate a friend of his whom I must serve as passionately and helplessly as I served him. But other times he would grab me by the hair and pull me to a private room, there to throw me forward on my hands and knees, where he would summarily rape me before proceeding to explore his larger repertoire of uses for a slave girl. Those nights I would lie awake even as he slept, softly kissing his legs and feet so as not to wake him, thanking Cristina for having seen the slave in me and letting me know the fulfillment I could find only in absolute submission.
Some clients seemed to take pleasure less in sexual services themselves than in the opportunity to thoroughly dominate a naked slave girl, to have me completely at their mercy, a willing, compliant, and helpless toy for their amusement. They might have me crawl about the room at their feet, assume various positions of submission and vulnerability, lick and kiss their bodies or even inanimate objects, or otherwise express my inferiority and subjugation. Or some would take pleasure in binding me in different positions, using the arsenal of specialized equipment put at their disposal - blindfolds, gags, cuffs, chains, and an assortment of devices made of leather, steel, or latex too complex to describe. I might be left helplessly bound and blindfolded, waiting in terrifying anticipation to know what would next be done to me. Other men enjoyed having me dress up in various costumes and pose for them, and then invariably remove those clothes, either slowly, piece by piece, gradually uncovering the slave's body they had paid for and could soon possess, or quickly, tearing off my clothes to reveal the naked slut that I knew myself to be, soon on her knees and begging to be used.
There are many ways in which a master can enjoy the services of a complete slave, and I learned many of them.
Of course, the majority of the clients I served had little in the way of imagination. In the most common scenario, I would be simply ordered to my knees, there to beg briefly for the privilege of pleasing my master, before he consented to my pleas and allowed me to serve him with my mouth. These men, I decided, were either lazy or unimaginative. But still I was compelled to obey them instantly and perfectly. And I learned to find satisfaction even in such a simple and routine act of service. Although my body would be scarcely aroused, at the moment I felt the master's warmth spreading across my mouth and down my throat, I would still feel a deep surge of selfless ecstasy, secure in the knowledge that, for this moment at least, I had successfully fulfilled my new purpose in life. And when I thanked him, on all fours, my hair cascading over his feet as I kissed them helplessly, it was not a mere formality, but a true expression of my slave's feelings.
And so the summer passed into autumn, as the leaves I could only see in the distance changed colors and the air in the courtyard grew crisper.
Chapter 9: The Client
On rare occasions, one of us slave girls might be rented out for a night at a location other than the club, presumably at some significant expense to the client. This was primarily done for clients who could not risk accidental discovery at the club - men, or women, whose political, business, or other connections would not permit them to be seen indulging in the soft, captive flesh of girls such as I. As a new slave girl I had understandably few of these appointments, but as the months wore on my talents, such as they were, became more and more familiar among the types of people who had the means to command them, and, for better or for worse, I became more and more desirable a property for the evening.
One night in October I was told that I had been reserved for the evening by one of these "special" clients. We were typically escorted to these appointments under tight security, and this time was no exception. I made the trip in the back of an unmarked van, my wrists and ankles secured by inflexible, cold steel handcuffs, my mouth filled with a hard rubber ball gag, my eyes blindfolded so I would not know where I was being taken. Apart from my bonds and, of course, the collar I always wore, I was completely nude. Two guards accompanied me in the back of the van, one seated on either side of me. One occupied himself on the way with caressing my body, first casually across my breasts and belly, then between my legs, intimately and implacably, bringing me to a forced arousal but, of course, leaving me unsatisfied. I would be delivered to my master of the evening hot, wet, and desperate for a man's attentions. I was frustrated, but I also recognized the logic in this practice. Men liked their slave girls to be helplessly aroused, squirming on their naked bellies and begging to be raped. And if that is what they wanted, then that is what they should get. I was only a slave girl; who was I to question a master's desires?
When the van finally stopped, my ankles were uncuffed and I was helped out of the van and up a few steps into a building, one guard holding each of my arms to direct me. Then they released my arms and I lowered myself to my knees, spreading them widely and lifting my breasts prettily. I had no idea who might be watching me, and had no wish to be displeasing in the slightest.