My Berlin Summer Chapter 4: The Mansion
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That night, Cristina took me home, escorted me to my apartment, and bid me
good-night. Rejected once again in my attempt to offer my body for use, I cried
myself to sleep - but only after bringing myself to helpless, overwhelming
orgasm, imagining that the dinner party had ended instead with my repeated rape
by each of the masters present.
The next few days passed uneventfully, although I could think of little other
than my new experiences in slavery. I was too frightened to call Cristina, sure
that our relationship had changed and that she could now only accept me as an
utter, abject slut and slave. I had taken to wearing the collar Cristina had
left me whenever I was alone at home, and even sleeping in it, the leash tied
around the headboard of my bed, my body otherwise nude under the covers.
It was on such a night, when I had even managed to tie my wrists and ankles
together, in a symbol of my inner bondage, that everything would change, from
the semi-innocent games of an American college student to my new, very real
life.
I awoke with a start, feeling a heavy cloth pressed over my mouth, a knife blade
at my throat. I looked up at the intruder, my eyes wild with fear. "Are you
going to cry out?" he asked. I shook my head. The hand over my mouth relaxed.
I looked around as best as I could and saw three black-clad figures towering
above my bed. My first thought was one of intense embarrassment - not just at
being nude before three strangers, but even more to have my self-imposed bondage
discovered. My second thought was one of fear. An attacker could not have asked
for more than a girl who had even gone to the trouble of tying herself up, who
so clearly was begging to be used like the slut and slave she was. Now, it was
clear, I would pay the inevitable price for my careless attempts to live out my
fantasies. This time Cristina was not here to protect me, there were no
elaborate parlor games to hide behind. This time there was just my naked body to
placate the desires of three unknown men.
I hoped they would not be too rough with me.
"What do you want with me?" I whispered, fearing to be struck.
"We are here to fulfill your deepest desires," said the man who had awoken me.
The other men laughed softly. He began to unwind my leash from the headboard.
"What are you going to do to me? Are you going to rape me?" I asked.
"Is that your deepest desire?" he asked in response. I remained silent. "Yes, we
may rape you," he continued, "but that is not really why we are here."
"Why, then?"
"We are here to take you away from your life up to now and give another one, one
more suitable to the type of girl you are. One that will remove the disguises
and pretensions that you have adopted, and will reveal you for what you really
are, and put you to good use."
"I don't understand," I said, fearfully. "What are you talking about?"
In answer, he jerked on my leash, pulling me off the bed and onto the floor. I
gasped in pain. "Kneel," he ordered. I struggled to obey, my wrists and ankles
still bound, and knelt before him. After a moment's hesitation, I opened my
knees, displaying my now-shaven intimacies to his view. Almost instinctively, I
thrust out my breasts for him. He looked down at me, smiling. "I think you
understand quite well," he said. "You are clearly a slave, a girl who exists to
serve men in any way they desire, and particularly through the use of your body.
Look at how naturally, how readily, with so little training, you display your
body before a man. Look at the collar you locked around your own neck and the
knots you tied around your hands and feet. We are only making official what has
always been true about you, you little slut."
I was beginning to understand what might be happening. "Making official? What
does that mean?"
"Until now, you have played at being a slave. Well, those days are over for you
now. Now that you are in our possession, you are a slave, in absolute fact. This
is not a role that you can put on and take off as your fancy dictates. It is
what you are. From now on, you exist to serve your masters, absolutely and
perfectly. Your will, your desires, mean nothing. From now on, your life will be
one of perfect obedience and unremitting degradation."
I shuddered in fear. It all seemed so crazy, but yet it might be real. "Please
don't do this to me," I begged. "I have so much else to live for. Isn't there
something else I can offer you? Don't you want to rape me, to use my body any
way you like? I'll serve you any way you want, as often as you want, for as long
as you want," I pleaded. "But don't make me a slave."
"You have nothing to bargain with, slave," he answered. "I can use you any way I
want, as many times as I want, and still make you a slave. That's what being a
slave is all about." I knew he was right. That was what I had to look forward
to, I began to realize - constant, repeated abuse of my most private charms,
with no control over what men and women would make use of me. I knew there could
be cooking, and cleaning, and stripping myself naked, posing seductively,
kneeling, and licking my master's feet, but the true essence of a slave girl's
life would be to provide the full range of exquisite, intimate, sexual services
that could be commanded of her, performing all of them immediately and
willingly. While my previous experiments with Cristina had always brought me
intense psychological excitement, this time I only felt dread at the future of
submission and humiliation that lay in store for me - and might begin at any
moment.
"So I really exist solely to please men with my body," I said to myself as much
as anyone. I looked up at my captor. "When do I begin? Are you going to teach me
my slavery now?"
"Not just yet, my eager little slut," he answered. "First we have to get you out
of here."
One of the other men pushed me to the floor and turned me to my back. He took a
knife and cut the bonds joining my ankles. Then the third man pushed a small
ball gag into my mouth and buckled the straps tight in back. They lifted me to
my feet and wrapped a long trench coat around my nude body. The first man said,
"You're going to walk down the stairs and into the car parked in front of the
building. If you make any sudden moves, you'll pay for them later. Do you
understand?" I nodded my head quickly. I looked around my apartment, taking one
last glance at the life I was leaving behind, the life in which I had a bright
future ahead of me. Instead, I would be a helpless plaything, a sexual toy that
men and women would make use of and discard. Tears ran down my cheeks freely as
I imagined what my life would be like now - the services I would have to
perform, the people I would have to obey, the humiliations I would have to
suffer. Then one of the men led the way down the stairs and my captor pushed me
down behind him.
We reached the street without incident and I was pushed into a waiting
limousine. Once inside, I was stripped naked and once again made to kneel as a
slave. With the lights on, I could see the leader of the three men was tall and
broad-shouldered, with black hair and sharp, angular features. His colleagues
also towered above me. I had never before felt so small, and soft, and
vulnerable, as I did, kneeling naked and bound in their presence.
"I will explain a few things to you now," he began. "If you learn them, swiftly,
you will increase your chances of surviving." I swallowed, hard. "You are a
slave. That is all you are. You exist to serve your masters, instantly and
fully. You have no rights, no will, no desires. Your sole purpose is to give
pleasure to your masters. Being what you are, your best chance of doing that is
with your body, and I advise you to make use of it as best you can.
"You must address all free men and women as master or mistress. You will not
speak unless spoken to. If not otherwise instructed, you will kneel in their
presence. You may never close your knees or otherwise deny access to any part of
your body. You must remain continually, total open to any use that your masters
can imagine. If you fail to obey, you will be beaten, or worse. You can be used
in any way by any person at any time, and you must serve all of them willingly
and eagerly. Do you understand?"
My head swam. This was far more terrifying than any fantasy I had ever had. I
imagined the repeated, cruel abuses that I could suffer in this new life, being
forced to serve masters in ways I had never imagined, or simply being raped by
tens or hundreds of men in uninterrupted succession. "Yes, master," I whispered.
"I understand. I will obey."
"Very well. Now I will be the first to introduce you to your new condition."
"Yes, master," I said meekly, now knowing I was only moments away from my first
slave rape. My body was beginning to lubricate itself in self-defense. "How may
I serve you?"
"Turn away from me," he ordered. I obeyed, still kneeling. "Put your head to the
floor. Put your hands behind your head." I was now fully open and exposed to
him, my bound hands powerless to protect me from his impending assault. He made
me wait what seemed like hours as I trembled naked on the floor of the
limousine, awaiting my ravishment. Then suddenly he entered me and I gasped in
shock. He made use of me rapidly, casually, brutally, demonstrating that I was
but passive flesh available for his convenience, and then withdrew. He had
aroused me with his usage of me, but it was over much too quickly for me to gain
release. "You may thank me," he said.
"Thank you, master," I sobbed, not daring to break position. Then I felt another
man penetrate me and subject me to his domineering thrusts, again using me
quickly and casually. "Thank you, master," I repeated when he had finished with
me, and awaited the third.
"I would prefer to make use of that mouth of hers," he said instead. Not sure
what was expected of me, I turned to face him and raised myself to my knees.
"You may use me in any way you wish, master," I said. At a sign of
encouragement, I opened his pants and lowered my head to his body. I had never
before pleasured a man with my mouth, but I thought I could guess what I should
do. He locked his hands in my hair and pulled my open mouth over his manhood,
setting the pace I must keep. Soon he let out a moan and clutched my head to
him, forcing me to swallow his seed. I almost gagged, but my fear at the
potential consequences overcame my reflex. He withdrew from me. "Thank you,
master," I managed to say. He cleaned himself off with my hair.
The leader of the three said, "That is all you are good for now. You had better
hope that men find you satisfactory."
"Yes, master," I replied.
Then the men took to talking to themselves in rapid German, leaving their slave
to kneel silently at their feet.
I cried softly during the car ride. I could think of nothing except the brutal
rape I had just suffered, their casual, forceful handling of my body. The long,
slow cycles of tantalizing, excruciating arousal that Cristina had put me
through, the fantasy world of semi-consensual slavery that I had imagined for
myself - these were long gone. Instead, I was kneeling, silently and in terror,
before three men who had just used me for their ruthless, unilateral pleasure,
treating my mouth as well as my body as only another place to find their
release. The taste of that last ravishment remained thick and heavy in my mouth.
I supposed I had better get used to it, I said to myself. It was a taste I was
sure to know well in the days, weeks, and months ahead. No, this was clearly not
the exotic, comfortable slavery I had imagined. But at the same time that I
dreaded what masters might do to me, I understood that, on some level, I had
asked for this. No one had made me accompany Cristina to that first party,
semi-nude, a collar and leash on my neck. No one had forced me to beg Stefan to
rape me that first night, or to offer my body up to Cristina after the dinner
party. And I knew that there could be no slavery that was not total,
unconditional, and abject, in which masters could not freely use my body in any
way they saw fit.
I moaned softly as my the realization of my predicament sank in. This, then,
was what I had to look forward to, for at least as long as my body continued to
be of interest to masters - kneeling naked before men, my body still sore from
their previous assaults, waiting submissively for them to see fit to take
pleasure in my soft flesh once again. And I had to admit that part of me - a
small part, but one I could not deny - almost reveled in that realization, that
the slave girl in me had finally been recognized, brought out into the open, and
cruelly enslaved, finally being forced to put her charms to use.
I wondered if Cristina knew what was happening to me, if she had somehow
arranged for my abduction and enslavement, or had even sold the rights to my
body to some dealer in women's flesh. If the latter, I wondered what she had
gotten for me. Even if she were not involved, I felt sure that she would approve
of this drastic change in my fortunes.
I wondered how long I could survive as a helpless slave, completely at the mercy
of demanding masters. As a new slave, I expected I would provide at least some
novelty value, a new plaything for a few hours of entertainment. But then
perhaps they would tire of me, or at the least would become more and more
exacting, continually demanding new depths of submission and service. I silently
prayed that men would find me satisfactory, as my captor had said. But then I
realized with a shock that it was not just a matter of others "finding" me
satisfactory or not. I, though a slave, still must have some power to please
masters, to make them desire my services, to stimulate their desire and, in so
doing, provoke my own ravishment. If I wanted to survive, I would have to do
everything in my power to make myself desirable, to anticipate the wants of my
masters, to inflame them with lust and then satiate their urges with my soft,
naked body. I knew the only assets at my disposal were my body and my ability to
use it to please men and women, and that the quality of my life would depend
directly on my success in encouraging them to humiliate, abuse, and debase me.
And with a kind of calm, I realized that in succumbing to my submissive urges,
in giving in to masters as the brazen slut I knew I could be, I was only heeding
my own self-interest, following the course of action most likely to preserve my
life in a tolerable fashion. If I was totally dependent on the whims of my
masters, it was far better for them to find in me a willing, eager, sensuous
slut than a reluctant, withdrawing, resisting woman attempting to preserve her
dignity. Armed with this irrefutable justification, I was free to cast aside any
vestiges of modesty or propriety I might of thought to keep, free to embrace my
complete and abject subjection.
I looked up at my captor, a pleading look in my eyes. I begged silently for him
to be kind to me. I knew at that moment I would do anything in my meager powers
to please him. Unbidden, I lowered my head to his feet and began to lick at his
shoes. Although I had performed this act of obeisance several times before, this
was the first time I did so as a true slave, in complete recognition of the
absolute power this man held over me, my body, and my very life. I abandoned
myself completely to the worship of his feet, covering them with caresses of my
tongue and tears from my eyes, hoping in this tiny way to be found pleasing. At
that moment, I actually hoped that he would deign to make use of me again, if
only for the security of knowing that he found me of interest.
Instead, he only reached down and stroked my hair, falling about his feet.
"You'll make a good slave," he said. I moaned in appreciation, but continued
licking his shoes.
***
Eventually the car pulled into the long driveway of another secluded mansion. A
tug on my leash pulled me back up to my knees. I looked up at my master,
expectantly. "This is your new home, slut," he said. This was real, then. I had
not been abducted simply to serve as an evening's entertainment, thereafter to
be returned to my accustomed life. This was, in fact, the beginning of a new
life, a life I whose outlines I could only dimly imagine - a life to be spent at
the feet of my masters, desperately hoping to please them with my nude body.
My captor led me up the stairs to the front door. I trailed behind him as
Cristina had taught me, my eyes lowered submissively. He knocked on the door and
I waited in expectant silence. The door swung open.
A tall, black-haired woman stood in the doorway. She looked at ease in a crisp
blue business shirt and grey slacks. She seemed about forty, her face hard but
not wrinkled, her hair flecked with grey. I looked into her eyes for a moment.
Then I lowered my eyes and knelt before her, my knees wide.
"Here's the slut," my captor said. I reddened at the verbal slap.
"How was she?" the woman asked.
"Remarkable," he answered. "I've never seen a new girl so eager to please." I
wanted to die on the spot. The humiliation of being raped by three men in the
back of a limousine paled next to the humiliation of having my secret,
submissive nature exposed.
"Is this true?" the woman asked me, lifting my chin with her hand.
"Are you eager to please?"
Tears welled up in my eyes. "Yes, mistress," I whispered. "I exist only to
please my masters." I took refuge in the thought that I was only trying to say
what she would want to hear, but I knew that was a lie.
"Then we will get along wonderfully, my dear," she said. She took the end of my
leash in her hand and led me into the house. My captor, the first man who used
me as a slave, patted me affectionately on the bottom and turned to leave.
She led me into a large, almost empty room that seemed more appropriate to a
Kreuzberg loft than to a rural mansion. She stopped and turned toward me.
Instantly I knelt before her, my knees open, my chest thrust forward. I hoped
she found my body pleasing. I wondered what she would demand of me - if I would
be forced to please her as I had pleased the men in the car.
"I take it you understand what has happened to you," she began. "You are now a
slave - a sex slave, in fact. We know that you have secretly desired to be a
slave, and now we are simply granting you that desire."
There was no way I could argue with that. Hadn't I gone willingly both to the
club and to the party, there to serve as a slave? Hadn't I begged Stefan and
Cristina to put me to use as a slave? "What is going to happen to me?" was all I
could ask.
"Although you show considerable promise as a slave, you have a great deal to
learn. This is a training facility. Here you will be taught what it means to be
a slave, and the arts of serving men and women with your body. If you do not
learn quickly, you will be whipped." She paused. "I assure you that it is best
to learn quickly." I nodded, silently. I had always been a good student, but
never before had I taken classes in sexual slavery. I hoped that I would be a
good student. I vowed to do everything I could to be pleasing.
Then I remembered what she had said - that this was only a training facility.
"Then what happens ... once I've been trained?" I whispered.
"Then you will be sold to your new master," she said simply. "And then you will
spend a lifetime endeavoring to convince him - or her - that you are worth
keeping. Presumably you will spend much of that time as naked as you are now,
with your legs spread or your mouth open, begging to be used as a slave. Or your
master can choose to sell you to someone else, of course. You are just an
article of property now, to be bought and sold and consumed."
I thought about what I had gotten myself into. No longer could I enjoy the
comforts of submitting to my idol, Cristina, or to people I knew and liked. Now
I was just a naked, helpless slave girl, who could find herself on her knees
before anyone, anywhere, begging to be raped. But at the same time, now I knew
that I truly had no choice in the matter. I was a slave and that was all there
was to it. I would have to be utterly pleasing to anyone who had rights over me.
"What kind of owners do the slaves get sold to?" I asked, wondering what fate
lay in wait for me.
"A few are sold to extraordinarily wealthy men and women who want to have
personal sex slaves. But actually, the largest number are sold to high-class
prostitution businesses," she said. "There's more money there than in private
slavery. Most of the girls we train here end up being rented by the hour or by
the night to wealthy businessmen who want the exquisite services that can only
be demanded of a complete slave. And then some are sold into the pornography
business, where they are used to make movies and videos. But there isn't much
need for slaves there, since so many young girls are willing to do it for the
money."
So that was my future - offering my body to one man after the other, to satisfy
their every desire, for the profit of my owners. Gone was any of the romance I
might have imagined in sexual slavery. Instead I would be a simple commodity to
be used up and presumably discarded when my body was no longer of interest.
"I am Claudia, but you will address me as Mistress," she said, jarring me out of
my reverie. "I run this house. You appear eager and obedient, but that remains
to be proven. Any disobedience, however slight, will be instantly punished. We
have very few rules, apart from absolute obedience. You will remain nude unless
specifically permitted otherwise. You will kneel when in the presence of any of
the staff here, unless permitted otherwise. Your body is constantly available
for use by any of the staff, unless specified otherwise. And you may not please
yourself or any of the other slaves. Your bodies exist for the pleasure of
masters alone. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mistress," I said. "I will be absolutely obedient."
"Very good," she said. "You may keep the name 'Jenny' while you are here,
although you will more often answer to 'slave' or slut.'
"Michael!" she called. A moment later a tall, burly man strode in to the room.
"Take the new slave to the slave pen."
"Yes, Claudia," he answered. He picked up my leash and began to lead me away.
"Any special instructions?" he said with a smile.
"No, Michael," she said. "You may do with her as you wish."
I would not have to wait long to find out what she meant. He led me down a
staircase to a large, dimly lit room with several narrow beds. Most seemed to
be occupied by young women, apparently naked under the thin sheets. He pulled me
to an empty bed, threw me down on it on my back, and tied my leash around a ring
attached to the wall above the head of the bed. Then he casually flipped me over
onto my stomach and lifted me onto my knees, forcing my bottom up into the air.
I heard him undoing his zipper behind me. My heart was pounding and my breathing
frantic as I realized I was to be raped once again. I could feel my body
lubricating itself desperately to protect against its impending violent
penetration. Then suddenly I felt him plunge into me and I cried out in pain and
surprise. He used me brutally, forcefully, and casually, with no regard for my
feelings or my own pleasure. I was nothing but a vessel for his manhood, a toy
for his amusement. My body was warm with excitement but still far from
satisfaction when I felt his final surge inside me. After he withdrew from me I
collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into my pillow. So this was what it meant to be
a slave. So this was what it meant to be a slave. The words repeated over and
over in my head. "Welcome to your new life, slut," Michael whispered as he left.
