First he spoke briefly with David, and then two guards escorted him over to the wall with the other prisoners. Then it was my turn. I lowered myself to my knees and spread them as widely as possible. He had probably never known a slave girl such as I. I would use every device I knew to win his interest.
"You are American?" he said in heavily accented English.
"Yes ? master," I said. He smiled.
"You American girls - you are all sluts," he said. "Yes?"
"Yes, master," I said, not wanting to contradict him. "I am a slut, master."
"All you want is sex. Always sex," he said. "You come here and you seduce our men with your slutty bodies."
I was afraid where this was leading. "Yes, master," I said.
"Sluts like you are a disgrace and a threat to our nation," he said bitterly. "We should kill you all."
My eyes went wild with fear. I did the only thing I knew how to do. I prostrated myself before him, falling onto my side and squirming over to him, where I began to kiss at his feet frantically. "No, master," I pleaded. "Please don't kill me. Let me serve you instead. Let me serve you and your men with my body. You can use me any way you want. I know I'm a worthless slut, but think of the pleasure you could have with me."
He looked down at me. "You disgust me, flaunting your body, begging to be raped. You Americans are weak. I despise you."
But he did not stop me from licking and kissing his feet and ankles. I looked up at him from where I lay, naked and bound, at his feet. "Yes, I am weak, and you are right to despise me. But why kill me, even if you hate me? Would it not be a sweeter victory to take advantage of my weakness, to enslave me and make me your own, or to give me to your men as one of the spoils of your conquest? If it is Americans you hate, what would be better than taking their girls and using us for your amusement, kicking our legs apart and raping us, or forcing us to serve you in ways you would never demand from your own women? And no matter how you abuse me, I will remain your devoted slave, always ready to please you or anyone you choose. Why throw away such a chance to demonstrate your superiority over us, to put us in chains and make us beg for your touch?"
I could feel him softening, and I was sure it had more to do with the sight of a pretty, naked girl, bound at his feet, desperately attempting to please him, than with any arguments I might make. He said something to an associate, who laughed and pointed at me.
"Think about all the ways you can use me," I said. "Think of all the ways you can humiliate me, or bind me, or take pleasure from my body. Imagine putting me on all fours and taking me from behind, or kneeling me at your feet to please you with my mouth, or bending me over a table and raping me. Think of all the things you can do with a naked, helpless slave. I offer you all those things and more, in exchange for my life. And when you tire of me, you can always kill me then, or sell me to someone else in exchange for something you do value."
He turned to his associate and said something, apparently a joke. Then he turned back to me and said, "OK, we'll give you an audition. If he's satisfied," he said, pointing to the man by his side, "you can live."
"Thank you, thank you, master," I said. I turned my body slightly and began kissing the feet of the man I must now please. "How may I serve you, master," I asked. "May I please you with my mouth?" I begged, licking and parting my lips as I knelt back on my heels, lifting my breasts to bring them to his attention. "Or do you want me on my back, or on my belly?"
In response, he unbuttoned his pants and smiled. "Thank you, master," I said, and knelt up off my heels to begin my work. With my hands bound behind me I was somewhat limited in my techniques, but I expected I could do enough with my lips and tongue to bring this man pleasure he had never known from his girlfriends, wives, or prostitutes. After all, I was a trained pleasure slave. I moaned in apparent pleasure as I bobbed my head up and down, closing my eyes to focus the physical sensations of intimate service. Never before had I pleasured a man in such fear for my life. Nothing existed in the world for me but his manhood, which I worshipped passionately with all the offerings of a slave girl. I felt him stiffen and prepared for his climax. But then he pulled my head off of him, pulled me to my feet, and threw my upper body over the dining table. I felt my body crushed against the table as he entered me, powerfully and triumphantly, the force of his body impressing on me my inferiority, my identity as a mere instrument for the fulfillment of his pleasure. He held my hips tightly as he spent himself in me, as I gasped and moaned more in relief than in anything else. When he withdrew from me, I turned and sank to my knees before him, taking him once again lovingly into my mouth. I raised my eyes to him, hoping to see in them a clue to my fate.
He stroked my hair approvingly as I continued to clean him, lovingly coaxing every drop from him. When I was finished I leaned my head against his thigh and asked, "Did I please master?" The man looked at the commander and said a few words.
"You have been found acceptable for use by my men," he said.
"Thank you, master!" I said, covering his feet with kisses once again. "Thank you. I will be a perfect, obedient slave to them, master."
"My men have worked hard and have had little in the way of comforts," he continued. "It will be fitting that they take pleasure from the body of our defeated enemy. As long as you are pleasing, you will be allowed to live. If you fail in the slightest, you will be killed, or worse."
"Thank you, master," I repeated. "I will be a marvel to you and your men."
Two guards lifted me by the arms and conducted me to an adjacent room, then being used as a kind of refreshment room, where food and drinks ransacked from the grounds were available and a TV was playing. The eyes of the soldiers already in the room fixed themselves on my naked body when I was brought in. I knew I would have to satisfy all of them, and many more, but I was deeply grateful for the chance. I was a slave girl, and pleasing men was the sole object of my existence. The punishment the commander had intended to mete out to me was nothing more than my rightful station in life, open and available for the uses of men.
After some discussion about how best to make use of their unexpected prize, I was tied on my back over a small table, my ankles roped to the two legs on one side and my wrists to the legs on the other side. My legs were wide open for assault from the front, and in addition, my head hung back over the far edge of the table. I was sure I was not a particularly attractive sight, but I knew I was an inviting target for the men's lusts. Quickly one of the men positioned himself in front of me and began to take advantage of my vulnerable position. Bound as I was, I could do little to participate in my rape, but I could still use my inner muscles to massage him. I closed my eyes and moaned in an expert simulation of a slave girl's rapture, hoping by that means to further excite my attacker. But although I began solely as a stratagem to please my master of the moment, I soon felt myself becoming truly heated, and was ashamed to feel my body responding to its brutal, casual usage. As a slave, I knew myself subject to this kind of unilateral, disciplinary use, simply bound for the masters' convenience and used as a passive vessel for their pleasure. And I knew that this was a perfectly appropriate use of me, a natural expression of my submission and their dominance. So by the time my rapist clutched me to him and climaxed within me, my cries were more real than fake, and I was disappointed to feel him leave me.