House of Stanos: Awaiting trial

I was asked to document how I came to be in this position.

"Please, Ambassador Stevens, you have to do something. I can't be a slave!"

"Ms. Werner, I'm sorry, there is little I can do. You are under Greek law now, and they take their cultural monuments very seriously. It is..."

"But sir, it was just a foolish mistake!"

He sighed in exasperation.

"You brought a prop. Clearly it was planned..."

"That was Jill's idea!"

"And she took the plea deal, so she can't testify for you. Look, the plea deal is only a 6 month sentence, and I think it is the best option."

"So there are other options?" I gasped.

"Well..."

"Please, I'll do anything."

"Amanda, you're not a citizen here. You can't be released to the hotel until your trial. Your options are the refugee camp..."

"Oh God, and get raped? Those camps are barbaric! They say all the women refugees opt for slavery until their hearing!"

"Yes, I know. The conditions in those camps are...unfortunate. Or, you could go to an actual prison, which I strongly recommend against. I wouldn't be able to guarantee your safety there."

I nodded, having heard the reporting on Greek jails. Maybe not rape, but food and medical were scarce.

"Please, is there anything else? Anything at all?"

"Well...there is another option. You could enroll in slave school."

I seized the chance. There was no way I could become a slave, I was totally opposed to even the notion of human slavery. I had planned to graduate and work as hard as I could to avoid ever having the chance of becoming a slave. My studies had led me to graduate school in the States but me and two friends had taken Spring Break to Greece and had thought it funny to take an inappropriate picture at a monument. The Greeks did not think it was funny at all. Sara and Jill had, to my understanding, already agreed to the plea deal. I was desperate to avoid being sold into slavery, even for only six months, so I took the option of the slave school. As a condition of the 'release' to the slave school a necklace with a pendant was placed around my neck. It was tight enough that I couldn't remove it. It was some sort of tracking/recording device. It actually looked quite elegant.

Apparently some women, for whatever reason, were intrigued enough by slavery that they wanted to toy with it. Slave school was a way to do that while remaining free. Mr. Stevens assured me I would be safe. Anything was better than becoming a slave, even only for six months. The stickler was that if I failed to keep up 'with the program' I would be sent right back. I readily signed on the dotted line. Within the hour I was on my way. The building looked absolutely lovely, classic in construction, and was situated near the Aegean Sea. My spirits lifted as I gawked at the place. Perhaps this wouldn't be bad at all.

I was quickly escorted to the office of an older man. He was well dressed, if still casual. He was apparently the owner. He told me in no uncertain terms that he did not approve of his "University" being used to house common criminals, and that if I failed follow the rules he would not hesitate in sending me back. I assured him I would be no trouble, and he curtly dismissed me.

The routines for the following weeks were straight forward and simple. I slept in a communal bed with twenty other women who were also...students? Is that the right word? Slaves in training? Anyway, at dawn we arose and had an exercise class, naked, in the courtyard. It was somewhat similar to yoga in my mind, getting into a position and holding it. I wondered if the Slave Yoga classes back home were the same thing. I had never looked into it, considering it too demeaning to even investigate. Then breakfast, which was lovely. Then we bathed, with one rule that you couldn't wash your own hair, you had to wash someone else. It was oddly luxurious, being tended to by one of my slave sisters. Next we dressed in our tunics, scandalous things that were kind of a one piece miniskirt that draped over our shoulders, lightly covering our bodies. The tunic was made of a single layer of thin silk. The tunic left your back uncovered. In the front it covered your breasts but with a deep vee that reached my belly button. It was extremely revealing, but the only men who saw us worked there and paid us no mind. Standing straight, my butt was covered, but not by much.

The rest of the day was spent in classes, headed up by the trainers of the school. We had classes discussing the joys of giving pleasure. I detected some Eastern philosophy in the lectures, a weird combination of cosmic Zen and spiritual improvement. They allowed, even encouraged, debate during these classes. I challenged some of the points, but was keenly aware that I was on thin ice and generally let things go. Reciting the Slave Mantras. Discussing sex. Acting classes, so you could fill any role your master desired. Classes were interrupted by a light lunch, some more practice, exercise and then dinner, then more discussions. Those were full days.

The blow job classes were the worst for me. They had these mannequins with dildos attached that we would practice on. I had never been a big fan of blow jobs, the guy gets all the pleasure from my work. But I had always been a good student, and being berated for not being good at blow jobs was uniquely humiliating. I did my best and learned. I learned how to look adoringly at the man I was servicing. I learned how to deep throat. I learned how to use my hands in conjunction with my mouth.

One of the big focus points was posture. Back straight, shoulders back, chin up, smile. Posture, posture, posture. After a few weeks my posture was better than ever. I had seen a few slaves before and always wondered why they looked so happy. Now I knew they were just showing off their excellent posture.

The other women came and went as they were free women who were there for the experience. I was the least free among them as I had to stay. Some college girls playing around for a week or two, some young women experimenting. Everyone was super nice, the school did not allow any drama. I made friends then lost them as they moved on. Then made new friends.

Two odd things really struck me as the weeks stretched to months. First, how nice everyone was. Second was how good the food was. We prepared the food ourselves using fresh produce from the local markets. I assumed the school did not want to deter students by serving poor food. Also, one of the duties of a slave is food preparation, and we all became experts.

Another thing that stuck out was how horny I was. Dressing in mere wisps of fabric, taking about sex all day, my mind was definitely in the gutter. We were never alone though, the whole place was very communal. They did not allow student...ah...relationships, all strictly platonic. I never had the chance to rub one out as it were. The longing below my belly was just another facet of my new life, a constant companion in the back of my mind.

One day I was summoned out of class. I was worried I had done something wrong but instead I was taken to a room with Mr. Stevens and Mr. Stanos. Mr. Stevens greeted me and then motioned for me to sit on a chair, but Mr. Stanos said that while I was under his instruction I had to kneel properly on the floor. So I did, acutely aware that I was only wearing a scrap of fabric in front of Mr. Stevens dressed in his power suit. He looked uncomfortable as he tried to address me professionally. At the school I was only around women, so I didn't really care how much skin was showing, but now I was looking like a total slut—or slave—in front of a man who knew I was just a college girl. I hoped he couldn't see under my skirt but knew he could make out my nipples under my tunic. Mr. Stanos left us and I got an update on my case. It was plodding along in the Greek justice system. My case was not a high priority and there were already long wait times for trial. I assured him I was meeting the requirements of the program and would wait at the school for my court date. Mr. Stevens returned every few weeks to let me know my case had not yet been scheduled, something I knew from the beginning would take a long time. One time he brought a woman from the embassy with him, and she blushed enough for both of us as we talked.

A few months later I was called into the owner's office. Mr. Stevens was there, looking concerned. I knew I had done nothing wrong and in fact was the best student since I had been there so long. It turns out that was the problem. I was too good to stay at the school and so the owner wanted to kick me out. My blood ran cold as this meant I would be immediately enslaved and start fulfilling my sentence. Kneeling on the floor between these two men who held my future in their hands, I begged. Mr. Stevens looked stressed. There was another option. I could 'graduate' to putting my skills to use. The owner had a property that was a blow bar. There is no other way to put it.

I would be giving blow jobs while waiting for my case to be heard. Mr. Stevens verified Mr. Stanos' explanation that the girls there weren't slaves. He assured me I would not have to have sex with clients. My choice was to be a slave or to give men blow jobs. I chose blow jobs. It's not that I hated blow jobs, I just didn't get much out of it. I didn't even consider blow jobs to be sex just something you could do for a guy you liked. Or a client in my case. The next morning I said my goodbyes and was sent to my new home.

The place was in a well known party section of town that jutted into the Aegean, a party peninsula. I had visited it earlier during our spring break. It was gated, so only people 18 years and older were allowed to enter. There were clubs and bars and restaurants, and a blow bar. I was ecstatic to see Eliza, one of my earlier friends from the slave school, was also there. It turns out the girls earned good money although of course I wouldn't be making anything. Eliza seemed happy and fit which made me feel better about things. The owner told Eliza to escort me up to take my test. I was quickly guided away to a room on the roof. There I would give my first blowjob and if, and only if, I passed I would be allowed to stay. Eliza calmed me down reminding me that I had all the training and just needed to do my best.

A fit, well-dressed man walked in and my heart went into overdrive. Eliza seemed happy to see him and gave him a hug. She introduced him to me and all I could do was smile like an idiot at his handsome face as he took my hands and looked at me. He spun me around and then nodded in satisfaction. Eliza nodded and then motioned to the floor. I fell to my knees and realized what I was there for.

My future hanging in the balance I gave him my all. I swear I fell in love with him while I worked. He was the first man outside of Mr. Stevens and the instructors at the school I had seen in months, and he was handsome and smiling and fit. I used all of my new-found skills as I worked, giddy with happiness as I saw the pleasure I was giving him. His cock was thick and hard and utterly delicious, and I was completely in the zone as I worked on him. When he finally filled my mouth with his seed a wave of joy washed over me.

"She's pretty good," he smiled at Eliza as he patted my head.

I was unstable as I stood, head spinning, legs trembling as she hugged me in celebration. I felt like I had just aced a test in school, ecstatic about life. Eliza happily brought me down to meet the manager and told him I had passed. The manager laid out the plans for me. Since I was new I would spend the first day, we were open from noon to midnight, working the coming attractions box. He also reminded me about my posture which seemed to be his primary interaction with the girls. Eliza took me to the back where I was dressed in a red lace version of the slave tunic only with white thong panties. The coming attractions box was a glass box in front of the bar. I would be in it, on my knees, hands cuffed behind my back, demonstrating my blowjob skills on a dildo stuck to the glass. The sheer lewdness of the act was jarring, much more humiliating than giving a guy I had never met the blow job of my life. But, as before, I had no avenue to back out.

I nervously took my position on my knees facing the street and took the dildo into my mouth. Despite having panties on for the first time in months I felt more exposed than ever. The slave tunic is designed to entice not cover. I looked out into the street as I began to suck, seeing fully dressed men and women walk by. Sometimes they gawked, sometimes they ignored me. The scorn in most women's eyes as they looked at me scalded my soul. But then a young man would look at me longingly and I wondered if he would come back to try out my mouth for himself later. I drifted into a haze. Sometimes small groups would gather around me smiling and pointing. I swear there were groups of high school girls giggling at me, mocking me. Later I found out that the recent graduates had come to the area to celebrate.

I got to take breaks, walking through the bar to the rest area. The bar was filling up with men, and I was acutely aware at how little I was wearing as I walked past. Out of the corner of my eye I saw men sitting in chairs, laughing and talking as a head bobbed over their crotch. That girl would soon be me. I felt a puzzling frisson of excitement at the thought.

By the end of the night I had met most the girls even if I hadn't really had a chance to talk to them. The spirit and camaraderie was seemed amazing, better than any restaurant I ever waitressed for. The girls actually seemed to be...enjoying themselves? I whispered my question to Eliza, and she nodded with a smile. "Give pleasure to find happiness," she said, repeating a slave mantra that I knew by heart. Suddenly I couldn't wait for my time on the floor. My dreams were once again filled with visions of pleasing men. The place was much like the slave school only we slept until 10 before starting our exercises. I slept in Eliza's arms. I hoped I would be desired. I was no slouch in the looks department, but many of these girls were absolutely gorgeous.

The next day was my first shift which meant following Eliza around. I looked at myself in the mirror, radiant and made up. If I had been wearing a business suit I would have looked completely appropriate for the office. Instead, I stood in a green tunic, nipples apparent, and heels. Eliza took me to the entrance of the club, dressed in a matching tunics and panties, to wave at passing men. The town was oddly sensitive about sexual displays on the street which is weird because you could look into the club and see girls blowing guys, but, whatever. We just waved and smiled and tried to attract clients. Another girl was in the glass box that I had occupied the day before and lots of guys watched her work before deciding to enter.

When it was our turn to go inside we joined all the other girls that were not currently engaged and greeted the men as they came in. We would guide them to tables, hand them the menu, both for food and for us, and then leave them be. When they were ready they would select their girl and make their purchase. A few of the guys were familiar with a few of the girls and greeted each other like friends. Eliza greeted one of the guys and his friend, and we had a nice chat. About thirty minutes later he called us over for our services. Eliza sat in his lap and I sat in the lap of his friend. He said hello and casually slipped his hand under my tunic to cup my breast as we talked. I glanced at Eliza and saw her getting the same treatment with a smile on her face. I followed suit.

After a few minutes it was time to get to work and Eliza and I slipped to our knees. I sucked on my client's cock as he and his friend looked out into the street talking about their plans for the evening. My belly filled with joy as I observed his eye twitch as I demonstrated my skills on his hard dick. Their conversation waned as he looked into my eyes, into my soul. I could sense he was getting close but knew it was important to time his peak with his buddy. Eliza also knew this, of course, so between the two of us we timed it perfectly. I showed him his cum in my mouth before swallowing, and he smiled gratefully. I felt a warm glow all over, happy that I gave him pleasure. They rose to leave and Eliza and I returned to the lobby.

There were several different options a guy could ask for. He could get his blowjob in a seat looking out on the street watching people walk by. He could also go to the roof. The third floor was the sports bar, so he could watch a game or sports talk while getting pleasured. The second floor was the gaming floor where guys could compete in video games while getting serviced. Guys are weird like that. There were also more private rooms. The goal for the club was a twenty-minute blowjob plus chatting and clean up. Cleanup consisted of fixing your hair and makeup and an amazing mouthwash station. You would take the mouthpiece in your mouth to wash out any residue and in about twenty seconds it felt like you had just come back from the dentist. This was done in case the guys wanted to kiss, although that was somewhat rare. Also, although girls weren't required to, basically touching above the waist was the norm. Guys could also pay for a tag team or a girl on girl show before the event or various other extras. One of the specials was the 'hood girl', where a bound girl in a hood with only an opening for her mouth performed. It was surprisingly popular for a reason I will disclose later.

There were plenty of boundaries though. Guys could not leave marks on the girls. No drunks were allowed. The club itself didn't serve alcohol, nothing stronger than espresso. The bouncers were very strict and ever present. Girls could turn a guy down. All in all it seemed like the guys were all totally chill. Or maybe they were chill because they knew they were about to get a great blowjob. Yes there were a few guys who would talk mean to you but it seemed like an act that helped them get off.

The actual blowjob wasn't that expensive, like a couple of drinks, but tips were expected. In my case my tips just went into the pool for the other girls. I was, after all, a prisoner awaiting trial. I had mentioned my status to No-Neck, the bouncer with a well-deserved nickname, and he was visibly horrified at what I had done. I apologized profusely but it was clear he did not approve.

As the days went on I got a feel for the pulse of the club. On weekdays guys started coming in when we open at noon for lunch and a blowjob. Most of them looked like they were on their lunch break, dressed for the office and the like. There was another surge for dinner, often with guys coming back from the gym. Then a final rush at closing, guys wanting to get off before going home to bed. The pattern was usually the same, guys come in, sit down, order food and select their girl. Then a brief chat while he would fondle my breasts then I got to work. This was the most common client. I would say I handled 15 guys a day, pretty average for the other girls too. Gemma, an Asian girl, was particularly in demand for her exotic beauty and usually was booked all day. Some girls perfected their teacher look or flaunted their big boobs or something else that developed a devoted client base.

Another group of clients were the buddies who would visit for a video game competition while getting blown. Some would even get on public games and trash talk while we worked. I found it kind of weird to be giving my all to a guy while he tries to focus on his game but I always won in the end. My skills were just too good to resist. It was here that the twenty-minute goal was most important as you did not want to make your guy look bad in front of his friend.