My Berlin Summer Page 6

  Cristina smiled down at me. "Not now, my dear," she said. "There will be plenty of that later."

  Chapter 4: The Mansion

  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, crue
l 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.