"Please, masters," I said, struggling to my knees and opening them instinctively, "don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you want."
"You're an American?" one said in a flat Midwestern accent.
"Yes, master."
"What are you doing here?"
I swallowed. "I'm a slave girl ? a sex slave. I've been held here by these men."
"OK, don't worry," he said matter-of-factly. "We'll get you out of here." He fetched a pair of pincers from another soldier, which they used to cut the padlock holding my leash in place. They cuffed my hands behind my back with plastic cuffs as a precaution, and then one of the men lifted me up and began to carry me down out of the room and down the stairs. He handled me casually, but I noticed he could not resist brushing a hand over my breasts as I lay helplessly in my arms.
I never saw my previous master again.
The ground floor and the surrounding area had already been secured by other American soldiers. Outside the building, two large helicopters were idling. I was carried to one of them, already almost full with men, and handed in.
"Wow, who sent us this present?" one of the men asked, sounding like no more than a high school kid.
"Just get her back to the base and take her to see a doctor," my escort said before leaving. "She says she's an American, but we'd better be sure before we take those cuffs off."
All the bench seats inside the helicopter were taken, so I knelt on the hard metal flooring. Without thinking, I opened my knees and lifted my breasts appealingly. I blushed, realizing that I was posing as a slave. But I remained in that position, not knowing what my status was, whether I was allowed to assume another position, whether these men, too, would take advantage of my naked, unprotected body for their sport.
One of the men leaned over to me. "I'm Lieutenant Shipman," he said. "U.S. Army. Who are you and what the hell is going on?"
"My name is Jenny, master," I said. "I used to be Jennifer Nevins. I went to UCLA. I'm a ? a slave girl. A sex slave." I began to cry with shame and humiliation. "I was captured and kept here, and I had to serve the men with my body, over and over again."
"It's OK now, Jenny," the officer said. "And don't call me master. We're getting you out of here, and we'll take you to see a doctor, and soon you'll be on your way back home and all of this will be over."
"What's going on?" I asked. "Why did you come here?"
"This was a surprise raid to capture the leaders of the rebel movement here," he said. "We hit six different compounds simultaneously tonight. If everything went as well as it did here, the revolution should be over by tomorrow." He paused. "We had no idea we'd find you."
The helicopter began to rise into the air. I was crying steadily by now. "You mean it's all over? I'm not a slave any more? I can go home?" I had dreamed about this moment, but for months now had never expected it to happen. And now that it had come, I did not know whether I preferred it to remaining a helpless pleasure slave.
"You're not a slave any more, Jenny," he answered. "It's over."
My mind was mixed with both elation and sadness. Elation, of course, that I would be free, that I could go about my life as I chose, that my future had been given back to me. Never again would I have to kiss the whip that was about to beat me, never would I be tied up to be used like a piece of furniture, never would I have to spread my knees helplessly before a man, begging to be raped. But it also meant that I would never again know the exquisite rapture of the overpowered, overwhelmed, ravished slave, held in place by her master's body and forced to experience the unconditional surrender of her body. Never would I have the absolute security of gazing into a master's eyes as I swallowed and knowing that I had brought him pleasure he could only find in a slave, and had thereby fulfilled my purpose in life. Never could I spread my knees before a man and beg to be raped as the slave I suspected I might still be.
"Please, lieutenant," I said. "Let me thank you. Let me thank you and your men in the only way I know how, with my body. Let me serve you and give you pleasure, let me give my body to you so that you may use it in any way you desire."
Lieutenant Shipman looked at me harshly. "I don't know what's wrong with you, slut, but you know I can't allow that."
"Please, sir," I begged. "I've spent two weeks being raped and abused hundreds of times by men who hated me and wanted nothing more than to humiliate me. You are the first men who have done anything good for me. Why should they be able to make use of me, and not you? I would gladly give you the usage of my body, if you would accept it, to show you my gratitude. I have nothing else to give you. I'm begging you." I adjusted my position slightly, bringing attention to my breasts, my belly, and the curve of my thighs as they extended toward my intimate regions. He was only a man, after all.
The man next to the lieutenant whispered in his ear, smiling. "Very well," he finally said. "We'll see what we can do when we get back to base."
I spent the remainder of that day in a room partitioned off from the large warehouse that had been converted into a barracks for the Special Forces who had been assigned to this mission. After eating and showering, and affirming once more that I did, truly and desperately, want to be the unit's slave for that day, I retired to "my" room, which had been equipped with a bunk and a few sleeping bags. There I awaited the men as, one by one, they came to take advantage of the eager slut they had so fortuitously discovered on their raid. I was still nude except for the collar and leash, which I hoped would inspire them to treat me as what I still knew myself to be, a slave, and I told each man that I would serve him in any way he chose, no matter how depraved or unusual he might think it. A majority, of course, could not resist the thought of having a naked, chained girl kneel at their feet and please them with her mouth, which of course I did happily. Only a few showed any inclination to tie me helplessly and subject me to something approaching the brutal rapes I had so often suffered. But whatever they demanded or, more often, asked for politely, I performed with all of the beauty, submissiveness, and gratitude I knew possible. They had given me the gift of freedom; I wanted to leave them with the gift of a perfect slave girl, which so few men have had the pleasure of enjoying.
After I had served their pleasure, even repeatedly for some of them, I was dressed in spare army clothes and taken to the logistics center to arrange transportation back to the United States. The day's delay was ascribed to an illness that was attested to by the unit's physician. I felt uncomfortable wearing "normal" clothes, clothes that did not clearly reveal my body, that could not be simply torn away, and that shielded my body from casual rape. I had grown so accustomed to being sexually available that I almost wanted to tear off my clothes and kneel before the men around me, proclaiming myself their inferior and their plaything. After some haggling, it was arranged that I would be taken in a jeep to the nearest American consulate two hundred miles away, where air travel to Los Angeles could be arranged.
I thanked my liberators once more - saving a passionate kiss for Lieutenant Shipman for last - and bid them farewell. The next day I was on a plane to Los Angeles by way of London. I did not know what would await me there.
Epilogue
I arrived in Los Angeles in time for the Winter quarter, but otherwise I was totally unprepared to return to my old life. My former roommates had given away my room when I had failed to show in August, but my friends were able to find me another apartment close to campus. When asked what had happened to me over the previous seven months, I was never able to come up with a convincing story; instead I said that I had been traveling with some friends I met in Berlin, and didn't want to talk about it any further.