A soft whir from the camera in front of me as it adjusted its focus temporarily interrupted my incipient orgasm. I wondered who was watching me debase myself with that obscene devise in that bland hotel room. I wondered how many eyes were looking at me squirming in pleasure atop my stool. For all I knew it might have been a live feed to millions of internet perverts all watching me while they pleasured themselves. My body felt hot at the thought of all those potential eyes drinking me in. I looked into the camera, right into it, to let them all know I was thinking about them just as they were thinking about me.
"I want you to come for me," said the voice.
"Yesss, ahhhh, Master," I was barely able to croak out as the climax took me. I came just as he had ordered it, as if his say-so was the little push that sent me into the most powerful orgasm of my young life. I shook and gasped as I struggled to stay on my perch, my own pleasure trying to pitch me to the floor as sure as a particularly ornery rodeo bull.
Finally I was done. I left the vibrator purring inside me. I had not been told I could remove it.
"Very good. You're performance pleases me."
"Thank you Master," I said with real emotion.
"You may remove the vibrator from your vagina."
"Yes Master," I said. I took it out and walked it over to the silver tray. I'd forgotten about the plug in my bottom until I moved from the stool. The voice didn't mention it, so it stayed in.
"I ask you for the second time: do you still want this position?"
"Yes Master," I sighed. Still full of post orgasmic euphoria, I felt I would do anything for that low, distorted voice.
"Very good. Now get on your hands and knees.
I did. The remotely controlled video cameras followed me to the carpet. The mysterious saucer of milk was directly before me.
"Now drink the milk in the saucer."
"Yes Master," I said. I moved forward and brought my mouth to the milk. It was a little warm. I drank it all, dipping my tongue into the opaque white fluid, slurping small mouthfuls with my pursed lips. I could hear the cameras panning up and down my naked body as I drank like an obedient pet. I began using more tongue as I stuck my ass into the air and purred with a low sensual hum. I could feel my sex growing wetter as I surrendered myself to the thrill of obedience.
"Stand up now."
"Yes Master." I stood looking steadily into the camera. I was feeling good. If all I had to do was to spend four months pleasuring myself and drinking milk like a cat this was going to be easy.
"Under the silver tray you will find a document. You are to sign it. This is your last chance to back out of this situation. Once you sign it your free will is curtailed for the duration of your employment. If you wish to back out you may do so at this time."
I went to the tray and scooted it aside. Underneath was a legal form several pages long. I picked it up and began reading it. It was the usual "party of the first part" legal mumbo jumbo and I tried to follow it but my mind was becoming disjointed. It was getting hard to focus.
"The milk you drank was drugged," announced the voice. "In a minute or two you will be unconscious. If you wish to sign the document and take the position, you should do so now. If you pass out without having signed the form you will wake up alone in this room and our offer will not be extended to you again."
"Yess Musterr," I slurred.
Panic sparked through my brain. He wanted me to sign this without reading it? My dad had a few choice words of wisdom about suckers who signed forms unread but I couldn't focus my mind to remember them. Swaying uncomfortably, I found a pen next to the silver tray and brought it to the dotted line on the last page. Biting my lip to steady myself, I signed carefully. I dropped the pen and stepped back, swaying uncomfortably on my feet as I struggled to focus on the voice's words.
"Congratulations. You are now my slave. You will be called number seventy seven and by no other name. You will answer in the appropriate manner when addressed as such. Is that clear?"
"Yessss..." I began, but the world was growing grainy and dim. I sagged onto my knees on the carpet. I was numb all over. What have I done? I thought in a last moment of clarity before my mind went dark. I tumbled forward, onto the carpet and out of my life of childish ease and freedom.
3. The (dis)Orientation
A headache woke me. Opening my eyes, I saw the rotating blades of a ceiling fan beating the air above me; beyond that, a cracked and dusty stucco ceiling. I was in a soft bed, alone in a dim room. The air was sweltering. Raising my head, I examined my room carefully. There was a crude oil painting of green fields and hills and another of a female saint. In the corner was a table with a sweaty pitcher of ice water and a glass. The sight of water made me realize my mouth and throat were painfully dry.
I climbed off the bed, poured a glass of water and drank it greedily. I drank so fast that errant drops of ice cold water escaped my lips to splash against my breasts and run down my flesh. It was only then that I realized I was nude. And it was the fact that I was nude that reminded me that I was a slave now. I looked around my room again. It was much nicer than I expected, for a slave I mean.
There was an envelope on the table next to the pitcher. The envelope said "77". I remembered that was my name -- my slave name. Feeling a little nervous at what I would find within, I opened it and removed the single typed sheet. Here's what it said:
"We regret to inform you that, upon further review, we have decided against accepting you as a member of our organization. We regret any inconvenience. A sum equivalent to your first month's pay with enough extra for taxi and airfare back to your previous life are in the center drawer of the desk by the door. Walk north on the street in front of this hotel until you get to the town square. You can get a taxi there that will take you to the airport. Good luck with your future endeavors."
"What the hell?" I said aloud. They were turning me down? Now? And where the hell was I? I opened the blinds and a small, dusty, third-world looking town sat outside baking in the sun. I spotted a faded flag flying on a crooked flag pole down the street but I didn't recognize it.
I turned back to the room and found the desk the note had referred to. I opened the center drawer and found a fat envelope. Inside was a stack of hundreds and a cashier's check for forty thousand dollars. I counted the cash it quickly. It totaled up to five thousand. Well, that was something. Not enough for Princeton, but something.
I sat back on the bed and drank another glass of water. I was confused: a little disappointed that I still didn't have enough money for college but also relieved that I wasn't going to be a sex slave for a third of a year. I wondered what had happened. Why had it been decided that I wasn't worthy? What was so wrong with me that I couldn't get anyone interested in paying me for sex? I might be tiny but I had a nice body. And I was cute. Everyone said I was cute.
And beside that, how the heck was I supposed to get home without any clothes?
I got up and poured a third glass of water before searching the room for clothes. The drawers were all empty but for a Spanish language bible. When I opened the wardrobe I found a single outfit hanging on the bar: navy blue jacket and jumper, white blouse, panties and a bra. On the bottom of the wardrobe were some patent leather shoes with a pair of white knee-highs rolled up in one of the shoes. It looked like a school girl's uniform. Perhaps that's the only kind of clothes that a bondage resort would have for a girl my size that wasn't leather or see-through; that was all I could figure.
The woozy heat of the close room was starting to get to me and having my hair resting on my neck wasn't helping so I sat and braided my straw blond locks into two ponytails. Then I put the school girl's uniform on and tucked my cash into my crotch, keeping a wad in my pocket for walking around money. After looking around the room one last time I opened to door and stepped into a dingy hallway that led to a dingy staircase down to a dingy little reception area. A milky eyed old man behind a desk watched me descend.
"Hello?" I said to him.
"Ummm... do you speak English?" I asked.
"Lo Siento. No hablo Ingles, senorita."
"Français?" I asked, wishing I'd taken four years of Spanish in school instead of French.
"Que?" he asked.
I sighed and walked out into the heat of the day.
I crossed the empty street to walk in the scant shade. There didn't seem to be anyone else outside: no children playing, no dogs barking, no sounds of traffic buzzing in the distance. It was a kind of eerie quiet unknown back in noisy old America. I wondered if there would really be taxis available to take me out of there. I was starting to panic a little.
As I walked I noticed a discomfort separate from the heat. My pussy ached a little. Was the pain from that oversized vibrator the voice had made me use on myself? Or had someone been "using" me when I was unconscious. I must have been unconscious a long time to get from home to wherever the heck I was. Were guys having sex with me all the while? I felt a chill despite the heat. Suddenly I was very relieved the job had fallen through. I was still bummed about Princeton but the reality of what I'd been willing to get myself into had been thrown into stark relief by that little twinge of vaginal pain.
But my ouchy lady parts and my general confusion as to what the heck was going on distracted me. I didn't even hear the van approach.
It was a white van. It was new and ran quiet. I didn't hear it approaching until it was almost along side. A pop of gravel under its wheels snapped me from my feeling of relief and pivoted my head around to see it slowing down. Honest to God, my first thought was that perhaps it was some kindly Samaritan pulling up to offer a girl a ride. That might have been the last time I ever assumed good motives in anyone.
The side door slid open quickly. Four pairs of eyes were staring at me from out of four black ski masks. They were predatory eyes. One of the masked strangers held a short shotgun. It was pointed at my face.
I looked left and right as I took a step back. Was anybody witnessing this? As I turned back to the van I saw that two of the men had jumped out and flanked me. One grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back. The other threw a wicked punch right into my gut. I doubled over as the wind was knocked out of me. My ankles where grabbed. I was lifted and tossed into the van. The door slammed shut as the two men jumped back in. They were all laughing as the vehicle sped away.
"Please..." I began to gasp but the masked man who had punched me pulled out a huge hunting knife and held it to my throat.
"Shut up, slut," he said. He pulled off his mask.
"No..." I cried as they all removed their masks. I knew that if they were showing me their faces it was a bad sign, a terrible sign. They laughed at my mounting fear.
They were an odd set of guys. The two that had thrown me into the van were youngish and athletic; mid to late twenties, early thirties tops. The other two were doughy middle aged men. They said something to each other in German as they leered at me hungrily. That's when it struck me. I hadn't been dismissed from my prospective job, this was the job. I'd been set up to be a believably terrified plaything in the rape fantasy of these sick German jerks. You might think this made what came next easier to endure but you'd be wrong. To push oneself through the terror of what I'd been planning only to gain a last minute reprieve and then to have that reprieve ripped out from under you is disorienting and terrifying. Real fear remained clear on my face as my eyes grew wide with realization of what my new life was going to be like.
While I dealt with all this within the wailing tatters of my mind, hands were all over my flesh: ripping open my blouse to send the buttons pinging around the cabin and reaching up under my skirt to probe at my pussy. My actions were instinctual like an animal in a trap. I was screaming and begging, pleading with them to stop even though I knew they wouldn't.
One of the young ones pulled the wad of cash out of my panties and laughed as he tucked it into his pocket. The other tied my wrists together behind me with a zip tie. I cringed as the plastic bit into my flesh. I was crying now, sobbing as they handled me roughly. Penises were being pulled out of black slacks. My panties were pulled aside. Outside the lush, green countryside was flying by as the van sped through jungle clad hills. It was all so unreal.
"Shit, why do I always have to drive?" said a fifth man up front as he adjusted his review for a better view of the action in the back.
"Shut the fuck up Mark, you'll get your chance later."
I was on my knees. Someone held my bound wrists in their strong hands so my torso remained parallel to the carpeted floor. Fingers were teasing my labia, fumbling with my clitoris. I was whimpering but that only seemed to encourage them. One of the old guys was in front of me. His cock was out and it was already hard. He was slapping me in the face with it and pressing it against my tightly clenched mouth. Behind me, I could feel something firm pushing into my womanhood and filling my body with hard, thrusting flesh. There was more laughing. Some words exchanged in German.
"Open wide girlie," said a voice as something flat and metallic was held against my throat. "We'll make a brand new hole if we need to."
I opened my mouth reluctantly. Fists gripped my braids and pulled my head back as the old German's musky penis pushed past my lips and slid back along my tongue. He began pumping his cock in and out of my mouth in a rhythm disjointed from the other man taking me from behind. They spoke to each other in German in tones that left no doubt they were amused by my gasping sobs.
They started taking pictures: photos of me being skewered front and back; photos of my tear streaked face with a penis halfway in my mouth and a hand flashing a thumbs-up next to my head; close-up photos of my vagina being invaded by firm Teutonic cock.
Someone had the idea to turn me around. I struggled against them, trying to brace my trembling legs against the sides of the van, but it was hopeless. Soon I was facing the other German and his cock, now wet from my own insides, was bobbing sickly in my face. Soon I knew the taste of my own intimate depths as the stranger's tacky prick pushed into my mouth. I fought back the instinct to retch as he punished my face with a smelly fuck.
As I'd said before, I wasn't a virgin. I'd even fellated Cliff fairly frequently - it was so much safer than sex - but I'd always backed off and finished him with my hand whenever it became obvious he was getting close to climax. So when the middle aged German came in my mouth it was my first experience with the sensation of a hard cock vibrating insistently against my tongue before erupting in a slick/sticky flood of semen that filled my mouth and oozed from the corners of my lips.
"Swallow it bitch," said one of the younger, English speaking guys. I felt the flat of the knife blade press against my throat again.
I swallowed my first mouthful of semen. I gagged as I felt the vile stuff slide down my throat. There would eventually be a day when I'd crave that sensation - the ripe, salty taste, the fecund smell, the slimy feel -- but that would come later. At the time I was mortified, like I'd never be clean again. I let go a wailing sob as the now-flaccid prick dropped from my lips.
They all laughed.
The other German came inside me. I knew he hadn't worn a rubber. I imagined I could feel his sperm sluicing around in my womb, trying to get me pregnant and ruin my life the way dad had ruined my mother's. I was able to turn my head in time to see him scoot over to the side as he tucked his wet cock back into his slacks. I wondered if the two younger men would now take their turns at me. Apparently, they were wondering the same thing.
"We got time for a poke too, right?" asked one of them, the one with the icy blue eyes and heavy jaw.
"Doubt it Paolo," said the driver, Mark. "The chopper is just past this hill on the right."
"I think this little slut can manage," said the other younger guy. He had deep-set dark eyes, black curly hair and heavy five-o'clock shadow. He pulled out his cock and pointed his knife at me. "Suck us both off, slut, and be quick about it or we'll be sure to make your life a living hell."
I didn't doubt it. I opened my mouth, willing to do what they wanted if it meant a mote of safety. They laughed as they rolled me onto my back and pulled my face up towards their cocks. With none of the disquiet most men would feel about touching their privates or sharing a woman they began thrusting into my mouth together, stretching my lips with their fat heads as they pumped their pricks in tandem against my tongue.
I tried flicking my tongue against their shafts, trying to work them both to climax by sliding it between their erections, but there wasn't enough room in my overstuffed mouth. I tried pumping my face on their cocks but they grasped my blond braids and held my head tightly in place as they rammed me full. They called me horrible things as they abused me. I tried desperately to finish them. I didn't want my life to be a living hell. I'd made a mistake, a terrible, terrible mistake.
Finally the van skittered to a halt in a patch of gravel and the driver announced, "Times up!"
I had failed.
Two penises were pulled from my mouth, trailing long milky strands of precum. One of the men pushed me down against the carpeted floor and spat in my face. "You're gonna pay for your laziness you little bitch, just you wait."
I sobbed, "I'm sorry Master!"
They laughed. "We ain't your Master, slut. We're his lieutenants. You call us 'Sir'."
"Yeah, and we're the ones you need to fear. Your 'Master' is a fucking pussycat compared to us."
"Yes Sir," I said, not knowing what else to say.
"OK," said the blue eyed lieutenant. "Let's get this bitch ready for her ride."
They all laughed wickedly. My stomach turned.
A bag was pulled over my head and I was tossed out into the gravel. I was dragged a few feet and rolled over, face down in warm grass. My legs were held tight in strong hands as some kind of heavy braces were clamped around each of my calves. I didn't struggle. I knew it was pointless. Finally I was left alone, still lying in the grass.
I heard a helicopter power up and the blades of its rotors begin to whoosh through the air above me. I wondered when they'd load me on the vehicle. But as the downdraft began to beat at me violently and pull at my clothes they still hadn't picked me up. Then I could hear the chopper start to rise without me. Could they have forgotten? I felt a tug on my legs; a powerful pull that dragged me through the grass for a few feet before lifting me up into the air. The sack on my head fell away and I watched in horror as it fluttered down towards the rapidly retreating ground. The chopper banked towards the sea and I swung in a wide arch over the boundary of the green land and the blue water. I looked up and saw that the thick nylon cords holding my legs fastened to the struts under the helicopter.
As we raced out over the water, my shrieks mingled with the roar of the helicopter. Upside down and facing backwards, I watched as the land shrank away.
4. The Arrival
It's hard to judge time and distance when you're hanging upside down over the sea while the downdraft of a helicopter is pummeling your skin and tearing at your clothes. If I had to guess the distance of the flight I would say it felt like seven hundred million miles. If I had to guess how long it took, I would say two lifetimes. Whatever the truth of the matter, by the time it was over I was a different person. I knew pure terror and I was willing to do whatever it took to avoid it in the future. I just wanted to survive and I was beginning to doubt that I would.